I, Assassin
by GratuitousViolets
Summary: Remy LeBeau is traded to the Assassins Guild in an attempt to stem a feud that has lasted for centuries. Thrown into training as an Assassin leaves Remy questioning whether he truly has what it takes to take a life.
1. Chapter 1

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter One**

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****Authors Note: This story does not have any links to Magnetic Attraction, Blind Leading the Blind, or Derranged Marriage. This story would most likely take place a some point following the end of X-Men Evolution's last series.**

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It was a humid sultry hot day and the Summer had barely begun. The air was thick like syrup; it was the kind of air that was scented almost sickly sweet and was incredibly hard to breathe. Remy thought, as he inhaled deeply and tried to exhale that the air seemed to sit in his lungs like thick sticky cotton and settle there. He dangled one leg over the branch of the cypress tree he had been resting upon; his back pressed against the trunk comfortably. He glanced down into the swamp, the water was mossy green, so still that to the untrained eye, it could have almost passed for a meadow of well trimmed grass.

Flies hovered over the water, skimming across the green as if they were figure skating. The long trunk of a bald cypress had fallen, bridging a short path over the shallow waters. As Remy looked carefully he could see the shape of a gator – an eight footer, he reckoned – lurking there upon the trunk, damn near blending into it.

Everything was so silent other than the occasional buzz of a fly that would pass his ear. That was until he heard his name being called.

"Remy!"

He sighed and twisted his body to look around the trunk towards the nearest stretch of land; his brother there, wearing a dirty grey vest – and cargo shorts that were smeared with oil. Henri was tall, broad, and incredibly tanned. He generally looked older than twenty-two, but he'd had his thick usually unkempt brown hair clipped off and left in a buzz cut that almost qualified for shaved completely; the young man's scalp was visible and it shone with the summer sweat. The whole affect made him look like a seventeen year old high school student.

"How you find me?" Remy asked, his drawl was lazy, he gazed down to his brother.

"I follow the smell of cheap cologne and cigarettes, what you think?" Henri smirked. "Come on down."

"What's goin' on?"

"Somethin' big."

"Oh?"

"They holdin' a meetin'."

"Who _they_?" Remy swung himself down from the branch onto another, across to the nearest tree and walked in perfect balance down across a narrow branch that led to dry land.

"Marius Boudreaux and father."

Remy swept his hand through his messy hair, it was tinged with sweat leaving it limp and flat. His brother glanced towards him, and rolled his eyes.

Henri grunted, "You need that hair cut."

"It's fine. It's just grown out a little."

Grown out was perhaps an understatement. Eleven months ago, his hair had been a neat and stylish crew cut. Now Remy's thick and heavy brown hair hung every which way in a mess that resembled no haircut whatsoever.

"Are you kiddin' me?" laughed Henri as they walked together, cutting through the trees that led towards their home. "You gonna know all about it one day, mon frere, if you leave your hair that way."

"Oh?"

"That was how they catch cousin Jaques you know," Henri explained, "DNA evidence from a _single_ piece of hair he leave behind at the place he stole that Faberge Egg. He got fifteen years for that crap."

"And it only took him _three months_ to escape," Remy pointed out with a smirk. "I could do it in three_ hours._"

"Well," Henri chuckled, he slapped Remy on the back playfully, "let's hope it never get to that, eh?"

The sun was glaring upon the LeBeau house as the brothers approached it, and it seemed to make even the dingy grey painted boards – which had for so long badly been screaming for a coat of white paint - seem almost pristine and bright. Ivy had crawled up one of the wooden pillars holding up the porch roof, and the tendrils had spread so that it dangled over the edges like tenacious fingers reaching back for the ground it had left. The sun reflected just right off the large glass windows making each pane seem like shimmering hot liquid gold. In the plantation house's unmaintained state it was Gothically pretty, it had character

Remy's eyes fell to a petite blonde figure sitting on the porch steps of his house: she was twirling a long sun-kissed curl around her slim tanned finger, at the same time chewing gum lazily, a pink bubble escaped her full lips and softly popped, disappearing back between her perfect white teeth.

"Is that..." Remy trailed off in a quiet whisper, stopping at the line of trees as he stared ahead.

"It is," Henri nodded, looking impressed as he too, admired the blonde from afar. "Bella Donna Boudreaux."

Remy cooed appreciatively of the vision before him.

"Two words," muttered Henri, he leaned near to Remy to make sure he heard and understood them. "Jail. Bait."

As the two young men approached the LeBeau house, Bella Donna stood up to greet them, smiling brightly, eyes so clear the sky envied them. Remy took in the sight of her; she was wearing the uniform for St. Dominics, a prestigious boarding school for Catholic girls. The uniform for St. Dominics was a white shirt with slightly puffed sleeves, a knee-length skirt with pleats that was usually completed with a pair of white knee socks. Bella Donna had perfected the knack of making it look like the outfit straight from a poorly made amateur porn. The shirt had been unbuttoned at the top to reveal the edges of her polka-dot bra, and the bottom of the shirt had been tied up to her ribs to reveal her deeply tanned waist and the glimmer of a jewel dangling from her navel. The skirt had been rolled over several times at the waist so that the skirt was hiked up to barely cover her panties. No socks and a pair of incredibly high stiletto mary jane shoes donned her feet regardless of them being unsuitable for this kind of terrain.

"Belle," said Remy, he gestured to her outfit appreciatively. "I like the debut 'Britney Spears' look you got goin', here. Very retro."

"I do it much better than she did," Belle tossed her gleaming gold locks over her shoulder.

"I tend to agree," Remy decided, eyes roving up and down.

"Look at you, I swear, you got taller. And scruffier," she took the chewing gum in her mouth and tossed it in the nearby trash.

"I know you like that in a man," Remy smirked.

"I'll see you inside," Henri rolled his eyes at Remy as he passed by them both.

The moment Henri had gone into the house and the front door had shut with that rattling thump, Remy hastily backed Bella Donna up to the rail at the side of the porch steps, and pressed his mouth to hers hard; her strawberry bubblegum flavoured tongue met with his and felt as hot as the sun on the back of his neck. After much heated kissing, Bella Donna broke her lips away from his to take a breath, tilting her head back.

"Been a while since we did that, chere," she brushed the back of her index finger across the stubble darkening his jaw. "Must have been...a year or so?"

"Has it been that long since I last saw you?" he breathed hotly.

"I think so," she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth then drew herself up to him for another kiss; Remy was impressed just how good she had gotten at kissing since she'd been the skinny and gangly fifteen year old he'd probably been too old to be lusting after last February. Now, she was a rather voluptuous – although still notably petite – sixteen and a half and suddenly the almost three years of age between them didn't seem nearly so much of gap.

After their second kiss, Bella Donna sighed contentedly.

"Mmm," he murmured smugly, "now where did you learn to do things like that with your tongue in a _Catholic School for Girls?"_ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She chewed her lip and traced her finger along his mouth; her touch was so incredibly light, it tickled, "you don't wanna know."

His fingers slid across the smooth skin of her exposed lower back to slip beneath the folded top of her skirt and graze against what felt like lace underwear. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I do," he gave a throaty laugh as he leaned close to her neck and planted a kiss just below her ear. "In great-" he planted another kiss, "great-" he placed another kiss, sucking the skin a little before continuing, "detail."

Bella Donna gave a sweet laugh that almost seemed like birdsong, "Well, I-"

The front door opened just then, it was the clattering of the screen door that alerted them. Remy quickly broke away from Bella Donna as Marius Boudreaux left the house, Jean-Luc LeBeau trailing behind him.

Bella Donna straightened up, taking a further step back from Remy in an attempt to seem casual and innocent. Bella Donna's reaction to her father's appearance didn't faze Remy at all. In fact, it had been somewhat expected...it was almost _the norm_.

It had been two years ago when Remy had first really _noticed _Bella Donna flourishing into an attractive young woman. Although back then she'd still been slim and shapeless, she was undeniably beautiful and charming and for a time he'd attempted – quite unsuccessfully – to ignore the attraction because of the age difference. Three years might not be much of a gap between two people who perhaps may be in their twenties or thirties, but for teenagers, it was as huge a gap as ten or twenty years. The difference between a girl of fourteen and a young man of seventeen was the massive gap between a child still wide-eyed and innocent and a very adult man who was growing ever more sexually aware of himself and what he wanted out of a woman.

It was fine to admire from afar, he'd decided, but his morals told him to steer clear – and so he had. It had been a struggle, of course, and regardless of chasing college girls and more experienced women, Bella Donna had always been in the back of Remy's mind. He'd tried to convince himself that the only reason that he found the little blonde so delectable was that she was _forbidden_. Not only was she too young, but she was also the _only _daughter of the leader of the Assassins Guild.

For months, he had reasoned with himself that perhaps it was only her virginity which made him want her so badly; there was a growing list of many men in the Parish – some young, some somewhat older - who would love to be the first to pop that sweet little cherry, and he was right there on the list with them.

Remy had always hated himself for feeling that way about it, but some feelings and urges just couldn't be ignored. He'd always managed to resist it for the most part...at least, up until last February, when things had begun to change and then the guilt had begun to slip away. It had been February that Bella Donna had been temporarily expelled from St. Dominics, the reason to which had never been revealed to this day. At the time, her father had been away (on what Remy assumed to be an Assassination contract of some kind) and Bella Donna had been under the careless supervision of her eighteen year old brother _Julian_ who spent too much time smoking weed and sleeping around to really be adequately responsible for her.

It had been during this time that Remy had first really been able to interact with her. They'd met in the passing, and soon found themselves hanging around the swamps together, talking, laughing, sharing secrets. Bella Donna had revealed herself to be charming and sophisticated for her age, and unexpectedly much more mature than he had thought and this tipped things into his favour. How could he feel bad about feeling so strongly about a girl who seemed to be very aware of herself and her feelings?

Despite his better judgement and his previous guilt, he let the girl flirt shamelessly with him, and fought his urges strongly. One night, under a vaguely chilly night sky – valentines day actually – she'd made the first move in kissing him for the first time. Admittedly, her kiss had been _much_ more innocent then than now. There'd been a few more kisses that February (at least until Marius returned and their time together had been cut drastically short) but due to her age and Remy's concerns over taking advantage, he had kept himself in check as best he could until she'd went back to school, her father none-the-wiser. It had been the last time he'd ever spent alone with Bella Donna until now. The removal of the temptation of her had made things considerably easier to handle.

"We shall talk further tonight," said Marius to Jean-Luc, which brought Remy back to Earth and away from his memories of last February. "These things must be considered carefully...you must think of your choice wisely."

"Oui, I agree," said Jean-Luc. He threw a glance towards Remy and frowned, "why you look so smug? Where you been?"

Remy opened his mouth to answer but then Henri – who was now leaning lazily against the front door's frame, holding open the screen door – spoke for him, "found him out in the swamp – probably wishin' he was Steve Irwin."

With a snort, Remy retorted, "yeah, sure."

"Come on," Marius urged Bella Donna, noting the look she was giving Remy, "lets go. Jean-Luc, I will see you tonight in The Chamber."

Bella Donna cast Remy an almost apologetic glance over her shoulder as she left with her father without saying goodbye. Jean-Luc shook his head at the dress of the girl as she climbed into the 4x4 she and her father had driven over in. As the car left down the drive and disappeared under the shade of two hundred year old oak trees, Remy wondered if he would see Bella Donna at all again this summer, or if her father would send her off to her aunt in Mississippi like he always did for Spring Breaks and Summer Vacations since her mother had passed years before.

"That girl got no business dressin' like that," Jean-Luc shook his head, "it disgustin', showin' all that skin," he added as he turned to go back inside.

"I think she look good," Remy shrugged.

"You would," Jean-Luc smacked him up the back of the head. "A girl her age got no right to be showin' that much leg."

"So," said Henri, "momma never showed that much leg?"

"Indeed she did not. Your momma had _class_. That girl ain't got no class, dressin' like that. It ain' natural."

"Looked perfectly natural to me," Remy said wistfully.

"Ain't nothin' natural about a _town bike_, Remy," Jean-Luc remarked as Remy entered the house and shut the front door behind him.

"Town bike?" asked Remy as he began down the hall towards the kitchen.

Henri spoke up, "oh, you know. Everyone had a ride."

Remy frowned at this, "that girl is _untouched_."

Henri laughed wildly, "in other words, he's got _nowhere_ _near getting' laid_," he said triumphantly. He and Jean-Luc high-fived, Remy rolled his eyes at them and sneered.

"It hard to get laid when the girl's daddy got her on a short leash like she a dog," Remy admitted unhappily.

"In his opinion she _is,_" Jean-Luc pointed out, "she a _pedigree, _and he tryin' to make sure she don't give birth to a runt litter. Marius got no time for _mix-breeds_ in his family. Why you think he sent her off to a boardin' school _well out of your reach_? You don't think he notice all the looks you give her? He want to make sure you don't go givin' her a bastard."

Remy rolled his eyes at this as he moved over to the fridge and began to search out for a can of soda – anything cold to drink, really. "I got no intentions of makin' babies with her."

"You said that about that _Claudette _girl too when I told you not to run off with her at that party last spring," said Henri thoughtfully, he pushed Remy aside to grab a beer from the fridge and he popped it, took a sip and then sighed, "and then nine month later she squeezed one out."

"It weren't _mine_ though, were it?" Remy reminded as he took a beer out of the fridge for himself.

"You sure 'bout that?" Henri teased.

"That baby was _black,_" Remy frowned unhappily.

Henri laughed loudly, "had a bigger dick than you, too."

"You could be the pappy, for all we know," Jean-Luc grabbed the beer out of Remy's hand, "we're not sure what kind of blood you come from, son."

"He's right, y' know," Henri pointed out, "you don' know _who_ y' real parents are."

Remy rolled his eyes, he didn't really need reminding of the fact that the LeBeau's weren't his own flesh and blood. He supposed, judging by how old his adoptive father looked and how Henri had inherited his unattractive nose and teeth, that could only be considered a _blessing._

"Just 'cause you're white don't necessarily mean you don't got mixed race blood, you know. That baby _could_ be yours."

"Look, the baby ain't mine," Remy assured. All the same, he superstitiously knocked on the wooden door of the nearest food cupboard secretly, just to make sure it _wouldn't _be true. He'd seen stranger things happen. Genetics were an unpredictable thing, and his own mutation was proof of that.

"Whatever happened to that girl, anyway?" asked Henri in a bored tone as he sat upon the kitchen counter, beer in hand.

"Last I hear, she move t' New Orleans with a man thirty years older than her," Remy replied. "He own a dive bar or somethin'."

"What happen to the kid?"

"Not sure. Her momma got it, I think," Remy shrugged nonchalantly.

"Just don't go getting' yourself into any more shit like that," Jean-Luc warned. "And if you _must _drop your anchor in a port, make sure it's_ not in Boudreaux bay._"

Rolling his eyes, Remy grabbed the nearest drink he could find in the fridge – a questionable looking Diet Sprite. _Who the hell buys Diet Sprite in this house? _He pondered. "Like it could ever happen. Marius send her to her aunts every holiday. She's at boardin' school rest of the year. Ain't no chance I'll have a shot anyway," he headed for the door, wanting the conversation to be dropped. He hated admitting that he was _incapable_ of anything, but even he had to admit his chances of bedding the virgin were extremely low.

"I want you two to dress in your Guild robes, tonight," Jean-Luc said, before Remy had even had the chance to leave the room.

"Hmm?" Remy stopped at the threshold, and he leaned there against the door frame, unopened soda dangling from his fingers.

"We're to go to The Chamber tonight. There's to be a _meetin'._ So be ready for seven 'cause we got to be down there by _eight sharp. _And it's an _official_ meetin' so be on your best behaviour."

He wasn't sure what the meeting would entail, but the thought left an odd sinking in the pit of his stomach.

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**End of Chapter One**

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**I realise that people are more interested in seeing a sequel to Derranged Marriage (for some reason, lol), but I felt I needed to take a step back from the serious subjects that story focuses on (considering the events of Magnetic Attraction). Thought it more apt I post something that probably won't contain many (if any) triggers (at least I hope not). Besides, which, I've wanted to get this one on for a while :) **

**Hope every one enjoys :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter Two**

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The stairs to The Chamber wound downwards, steep, and uneven. The brown robes that were a staple of Thieves Guild attire in the The Chamber were uncomfortably hot and itchy; the material Remy was almost positive must have been woven from the pubic hair of a rather annoyed Oxen, perhaps the stuff had been mixed with steel thread to give it that extra jaggedness that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle relentlessly.

"Fuck, I hate these stairs," said Henri, who was down in front, nearly tripping on the front of his robe, which had been a hand-me-down from a previous Guild member who had passed away some six years before. The Thief who had owned the robes before had obviously been closer to six foot six than Henri had.

"I hate these fuckin' robes," Remy mumbled, holding the front of his robes up a little, feeling slightly like a woman clutching the skirt of a ball gown while descending down a grand staircase. _Cinderella goin' to the goddamn ball_, he thought drearily. "It itchin' to goddamn hell."

"This is what havin' crabs feels like..." Henri announced bitterly, he scratched his neck uncomfortably.

"Oh?" Remy laughed.

"So I hear, anyway," Henri gave an embarrassed cough.

"Sounds like _experience _talkin' to me, mon frère," Remy remarked smugly.

"If I _ever_ become Guild leader, these damn robes are gonna be the first thing I'm gonna get rid of," Henri announced.

"They'll never allow it," Remy replied, irritatedly, he rubbed the back of his neck, his knuckles scraping against the rough material of his hood. "_It's tradition,_" he mocked his adoptive father angrily.

Henri pushed down his hood and turned to look at Remy, "the _Assassins _don't got to wear this shit. Why should we?!"

Remy sighed. It was true. The Assassins Guild had much nicer robes, black wool lined with silk, even the hoods were lined beautifully, the thread was shimmering black. They looked expensive and tailored in comparison to the Thieves robes which seemed closer to potato sacks home-made in a dark room by someone with poor motor skills working in candle light. Remy glanced at the fraying edges of his sleeve in the torch light of the spiral staircase leading down toward The Chamber tunnels.

It seemed to Remy that professional Thieves who constantly came into money would at least have more sophisticated robes for their guild instead of itchy potato sacks. "One day..." he shook his head in dismay but decided against finishing the sentence. He'd had this conversation too many times before already to be bothered with it any more. "So...what you think this meetin' is about anyway?"

"Not sure," Henri admitted, he caught himself after almost tripping again, he held onto the roped hand-hold for dear life and sighed, "I heard father whisperin' about the Guild feud with a few of the Elders before they leave early for the meetin'."

"You think they can stop us all fightin'?" Remy queried. Admittedly, he doubted it could be done. These feuds had been going on for centuries; if it wasn't turf they were fighting over, it was over whom had killed whom, whom had wronged whom. Remy had never cared for the feud; he'd kept his nose out of it and his head down when it came to the fighting and the arguments, but those who were blood to the Guild and _born_ Thieves felt much more strongly regarding these matters, and took it much more seriously than Remy felt he was able to. It was only due to the gratitude he owed Jean-Luc for taking him in that he felt any remote _obligation_ to hate the rival Guild, but truthfully he'd never felt any ill-will towards any of them - except from Bella Donna's older brother Julien of course, for many various reasons.

"Honestly," Henri confessed, "No. I don't. What time is it?"

Remy retrieved his cellphone from the inside of his robe and glanced at it. "Fuck...it's already after eight! You said we'd _make it_ in time!"

"I thought we would," Henri grunted as he dragged the front of his robes up to his hips and began to run down the stairs, nearly tripping.

The two arrived to the upper mezzanine of The Chamber just as a speech was being made. Four Assassins were standing in a semi-circle, one was kneeling before them, hood down, head low.

Marius Bordreaux, was standing aside, a branding iron in his hand was being pressed into a brazier; the fire light seemed to reflect in his cold blue eyes and make them seem as if they too were burning.

"It's an initiation," whispered Henri to Remy as they took their places on the balcony next to their many cousins.

Remy studied the view; he'd never witnessed an Assassin initiation before; initiations were usually private between guilds. "Who they initiatin'?" he wondered under his breath. All he could see from where he stood was the back of the initiate, completely hooded from view.

Marius took the branding iron quickly from the brazier and spoke, "silence is a virtue that each Assassin must honour."

Henri leaned closer to Remy to utter under his breath, "it's a test," he explained.

Remy leaned against the iron rail of the balcony to look down into the circular chamber, the initiate's arm was being raised, the sleeve pushed down to reveal the tanned skin beneath. "Test of what?" he asked quietly.

"Endurance," Henri answered in a hush. "You got to take the pain silently, or it's an instant fail."

Remy remembered his own initiation, and it didn't involve any kind of pain. Tedious tests, problem solving, skill and speed, but never pain. "How you know?"

"It's why Julien didn' _officially _join their Guild 'til last winter. He apparently has a _low_ pain threshold," Henri chuckled.

"Who is that anyway? I thought the whole family was initiated now?" Remy pondered.

"Few of the second cousins apparently just come of age," Henri responded in a whisper.

Marius pressed the hot end of the branding iron against the underside of the initiate's wrist. There was a sharp breath, an inhale of pain, but no cry, no whimper. Remy watched the arm trembling; was that pink nail polish he spied on those slim tapered fingers?

"No way..." Henri gasped, "they're initiatin' a _woman_?!"

"That's forbidden isn't it?" Remy growled, "they wouldn't...never."

Marius Boudreaux put the branding iron back into the brazier, and he ceremoniously lowered the hood of the initiate to reveal shimmering blonde curls beneath. Remy felt a sudden drop in his stomach as he realised at once who the new addition to the Assassins guild was.

"Oh my _God,_" Henri gave something between a gasp of shock and a laugh, "Bella Donna...they're _initiatin' _Bella Donna?!" he kept his voice low.

Remy sucked his breath through his teeth. Instant disgust he was sure must have seeped from ever fibre of his being. How could they do this? How could _Marius_ make his own _daughter_ into a killer?!

"Isn't this...against the code?" Henri wondered in a hushed voice. "I mean...when did she train? She's not even eighteen..."

One of the distant LeBeau cousins (Remy had a hard time remembering the man's name), spoke up at the side of Henri. "She's fifth generation Assassin, she's eligible for initiation."

"But she's a _girl,_" Remy gritted his teeth.

"Far as I know, they found a loophole in the laws. I overheard them say long as she can take the endurance test and has two sponsors, she's eligible," explained their cousin.

"I'm guessin' her daddy and her grandpa sponsored her," Henri reasoned.

Marius kissed Bella Donna upon the head, and helped her to her feet, "rise, Assassin," he instructed as he did so.

There were three more initiations following Bella Donna's, male members of the family whom had recently come of age. Remy glanced down towards Bella Donna, who was standing to the side, hooded, wearing her brand new Assassins uniform. Remy couldn't help but feel she looked deadly; it sickened him to his stomach. Although she barely moved, Remy could sense how painful the burn was just by how tense she stood there.

"Hah," said Henri, smacking Remy's arm amusedly, "you know what this mean, right?"

"Hmm?"

"You're _really_ enemies now," Henri explained. "You're _doomed_ if you go off with her now."

Remy turned away from the view down into the pit of the chamber, he let his back rest against the iron rail and folded his arms. He was too sick to look at this; instead, he listened to each initiation take place, listened to the sharp breath of pain as each new Assassin was branded. It was after the final initiation, that he heard his Father, Jean-Luc, arrive in the Chamber, and the meeting truly began.

"You have all been called here to witness the birth of a _new_ age," said Jean-Luc. Remy always thought it was disgusting the way the man would suddenly speak with such authority and such resonance the moment he entered this chamber. He had that knack of certainly being able to make himself _sound_ like someone worthy of respect when Remy felt it was the furthest thing from the truth. "The age when Thief and Assassin learn to live as _one_."

Remy glanced down to his feet; his modern boots looked odd in comparison to the ancient robes he was wearing, which could have easily been older than time itself. "Yeah, that's gonna happen," he muttered unhappily.

"The _feud_ has gone on for too many centuries. Thief attack Assassin, Assassin kill Thief. It goes in a never ending circle," lamented Marius, unhappily. "Many have died through the years. As of recent, two of our own have died due to this feud."

Henri grunted, "who died?"

"Travis got stabbed by one of the Assassins last week," said one of the cousins, Remy could only vaguely remember his name might be 'Michael' or 'Mitchell'. It didn't really seem to matter. He couldn't even remember who this _Travis_ was. He supposed he was one of the very distant cousins he'd never taken the time to know. "Then his lil' brother Raymond ran off and shot the bastard in the head with a semi-automatic..."

"Silence!" yelled Jean-Luc up towards the three, "there have already been enough _mutterings_ up there. We shall have no more!"

"Whatever," Remy grumbled.

"A pact has been made," Marius spoke up, "between Thief and Assassin that shall _ensure _the two do _not_ turn against each other again. For turning _against _one another would be turning against _themselves_."

Henri whispered, "what they talkin' about?"

"It has been decided," said Marius, "that an _Assassin_ shall be initiated into the _Thieves _Guild in three months time, as a _Thief_ shall join the _Assasssins._"

Remy raised his head, had he just heard what he _thought_ he had heard? There was a rumble of whispers in the room. Regardless of what the leaders of the Guilds might have agreed upon, apparently no one else had been informed.

"Thief shall train with the Assassins and _learn_ to be one of _us,"_ explained Marius, "As Assassin will learn from Thief. Each will remain beside the Guild Leader and be taught in the ways of our worlds. In ninety days, a permanent initiation will take place."

"And _this_ is gonna stop us from fightin'?" asked one of the other cousins from the other side of the mezzanine, sounding most baffled indeed.

"Would you turn against your own?" asked Marius curiously.

There was no answer. Remy shook his head at the ridiculousness of such an idea. This was doomed to fail.

"So which of us is joinin' the _band of killers, then?_" called another cousin from somewhere below.

Jean-Luc responded, "the chosen are to be the ones of most...potential. The most highly skilled, the best their generation has to _offer_."

Marius continued for him, "My son _Julien_ will join the Thieves and train with Jean-Luc LeBeau," he explained, he gestured to his son, standing there looking like a dangerous shadow in his fine robes.

Remy pushed himself away from the iron rail, "fuck this. I'm outta here," he announced angrily. He'd had enough. Initiating a girl into the Assassins was one thing – initiating the girl he was _attracted to _and at some point, definitely intended to _conquer_ was yet another. The icing was that Julien Boudreaux, Bella Donna's older and incredibly hostile older brother, was to be invited into their lives and to be _trained_ in their ways...well...this was a cake Remy definitely didn't want to wait and enjoy a piece of. The boy was hardly the best his generation had to offer and the thought of him being invited into their home to learn from them was definitely the last straw.

_Where'll I go though,_ thought Remy as he took a step towards the arch leading to the staircase. There were always more options he supposed than to stay here and put up with this; he could go back to Bayville, seek out an employer needing his _special skills_. Hell, even joining the Goody-two-shoes _X-Men _would be significantly better than _this. _

"And the _Thief_ who shall be joining us..." Maris was continuing, sounding almost _proud,_ leaving Remy with nothing but disgust for the entire venture.

Remy glanced over his shoulder at Henri, "Congratulations," he said, positive that he _was _the best the generation had to offer, that he was the _only _candidate for this initiation. "Good luck with the Assassins, mon frère. You're gonna need it," he punched him lightly in the shoulder before he stepped into the tunnel leading towards the spiral staircase leading up to the ground.

"_Remy LeBeau!_" called Marius.

Remy wasn't sure why every hair on the back of his neck stood on end; perhaps it was the brush of that uncomfortable fabric of the hood, or perhaps it was just the disgrace of Marius Bourdreaux ever calling his name in such a way.

Stopping, Remy turned and looked towards Henri in confusion. What was going on? Why did they call his name? Wasn't _Henri_ the one with the most potential? The _tinkerer,_ the skilled Thief, the one with all the plans, the precision, the logic? And Henri...oh, he looked so incredibly...what was that expression? Bewildered? Aghast? He was definitely confused and he _wasn't_ the only one.

"Remy!" Jean-Luc called this time, sounding angry.

Remy frowned as he entered into the tunnel and took the turn that lead down to the pit of the chamber. It was strange, how it seemed smaller from down here than it did from up on the observation balcony. The stone bricks of the walls seemed to close in, the ceiling seemed low and the rails seemed much closer to the ceremonial circle than they had from above.

Standing there, Remy seriously wanted to demand if Jean-Luc might be losing his mind. Perhaps he'd taken a blow to the head? This wasn't the decision of a _sane _person, surely.

Under his breath, Remy uttered, "what the fuck-?" at Jean-Luc.

"You're the one with the most...talent in this _family_," Jean-Luc placed a hand upon Remy's shoulder; Remy could smell a whiff of Scotch from his father's breath. _Him and Marius probably toasted to their brilliant plan before we got here,_ Remy thought in disgrace.

"Because I'm a mutant?" Remy frowned.

"Because you're _good _at what you do," Jean-Luc reached up and lowered Remy's hood; Remy was thankful that the fabric was no longer touching his neck, but he reached up and scratched uneasily at the flesh just the same.

There were no cheers as the choices had been made and Remy was forced to stand next to Julien Boudreaux much to his disdain. There were just blank stares of confusion and a rumble of mumbling and grunts. And Henri...well, as Remy glanced up at his adoptive brother, all he saw was a strange expression of betrayal there. It wasn't necessarily that Henri had _wanted_ to join the Assassins and _learn_ all of their secrets...it was more the principle of it that he seemed to have been overlooked for his younger brother...one who was not even related by _blood_. The Brother that _he_ had helped to train.

Oh that had to sting...

Remy glanced down to the dirty stone floor uneasily, he didn't like the hurt expression in Henri's face. Avoiding looking at anyone, Remy listened closely to the rules as they were explained – there were many. He would go to stay with Marius, he would be forbidden to contact his family during the three months of extensive training. He would be immediately assassinated should he decide at any point to _share_ the Assassins secrets with the Thieves. He would eventually be tested before granted initiation into the Guild and therefore he would be no longer Thief but _Assassin _instead.

When Remy finally worked up the nerve to glance up to see his brother again, hoping for some kind of sympathy or a supportive glance, he found him to be gone. One of his cousins was standing in his place, and he gave a shrug as if he didn't know where Henri had taken off to.

As the meeting was _officially_ called to a close, Remy felt a hand clasp around his arm, and he turned to see Bella Donna there. He had almost forgotten she was standing somewhere to the left of his back. He'd become so distracted with rules, and dismay of what was being asked of him.

"Welcome to the Assassins," she said quietly, a smile curled on her rose petal lips. Remy felt his cheeks drain of colour at her words, and as he watched her leaving – the swish of her robes following her – he felt as doomed as his brother had warned him he would be.

* * *

**End of Chapter Two**

* * *

**Hope everyone has enjoyed the first to chapters. :) Thanks for taking the time to read :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

When Remy returned to the LeBeau house, the lights in the house were all on, and Henri was sitting on the porch, drinking beer from a new six pack he'd apparently gone and procured when he'd left the meeting.

"Wondered where you had gone to," Remy said quietly as he approached the porch; it had rained in his absence and his boots sloshed in the many puddles along the dirt path leading to the porch. "You mighta warned me that you were gonna take off. I had to catch a ride back with Talbot. That kid can talk, I tell ya," he sighed as he tossed the plastic bag he'd put his robes in onto the porch.

Henri frowned a little, but said nothing at first. Finally, after what seemed to be several moments of contemplation, he finally spoke. "So," he began, pointing a slightly crooked finger at Remy, reminding Remy that the very finger pointing had once been broken when Henri had caught himself from falling from a roof during a spectacular heist only six months before. The finger had never looked right since. "You're gonna join the _Assassins. _Traitor," he slurred.

"It ain't like I _decided_ I wanted to do this," Remy reminded, he took a seat beside Henri on the porch steps and picked a beer out of the six-pack. There were only two left. He also noted that there was a bottle of Jack Daniels there too protruding from the bag the pack was sitting in, a quarter of it already gone. His brother definitely intended to get wasted tonight.

"I don't _get it_," Henri lamented bitterly. "Why the fuck _you_?! You're nineteen years old! Can barely tie your shoes! You don' even know how to count t' twenty-one without takin' your fuckin' clothes off!"

"I didn't pick me! They did! You want to ask someone, ask _them,_ not me," Remy retorted coldly, he popped the beer open and then took a long drink. It was warm, which wasn't surprising given the stifling heat.

"He's always favoured you over me," Henri snapped bitterly, his brown eyes always seemed blackest when he was angry. It was funny, thought Remy, how bitterness could make even the most good-natured faces seem ugly and evil. Anger took its toll, hardened his brother's face to an almost alien state.

"You do this every time you get drunk," Remy grumbled, "you start feelin' sorry for yourself, and start blamin' me for everythin'."

"If you'd never come here-"

"I didn't want to come back, remember?" Remy snapped too, he gritted his teeth, "I _had _to."

"You didn't have to _stay_ though," Henri growled.

"Oh fuck off," Remy rolled his eyes at his brother, "neither did you. I'm not the only one who took off and left the bum in the dust," he reminded.

"I came back!"

"Yeah, _after_ the shit went down and I'd already saved his sorry ass," Remy fumed. "You didn't turn up until _long_ after the dust settled."

Henri had no argument to this, the claim was true. When the hopeful Assassin initiates 'The Rippers' had kidnapped Jean-Luc, Henri had been nowhere to be found, and had been Remy himself who'd had to put his neck on the line. Henri had not turned up until weeks later, claiming to have never known a thing about the chaos that had ensued following his departure.

"Anyway, fuck it," Remy finally attempted to change the subject, "in the mornin', I'm goin'. You can take my place if you want, I've had it. I'm leavin'."

"Where the fuck you gonna go?"

"I dunno. Maybe back up north. I can find a way to survive. I usually do."

"You ain't gonna survive, Remy. You got no money, no _job_."

"I don't need a _job_," Remy responded coolly.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You can always _kill_ people for money."

Remy stared down to the wet drive, occasionally a threatening drop of rain would fall from the dark grey sky and cause ripples to dance over a puddle. He tried to let the image of that rippling puddle calm his anger with his brother. He really hated Henri when he got like this. It was the only time he couldn't abide by his brother was when he was intoxicated.

Alcohol always left Henri LeBeau with a poisonous tongue and a tendency to lash out at anyone regardless if they wronged him or not. Normally, Remy was able to take the accusations and verbal attacks from his older brother with a grain of salt – years had given him time to accustom and harden himself to it - but after what had occurred at the meeting, he was highly on edge as it was.

"You think you could do it?" asked Henri with a sneer.

"Hmm?"

"Could you _kill_ someone?"

Remy glanced up to the dark grey sky. He didn't want to admit the idea of trying to wipe someone off the face of the planet made him more uneasy than the thought of sticking his testicles in a vice and twisting the handle until they turned purple. "If I had to," he finally answered, trying to sound nonchalant. He supposed it were true in a sense. Self defence perhaps?

"This ain't about _havin' the choice,_ Remy. You know that, right?" Henri grumbled.

"I _know that,_" Remy replied quickly, trying to avoid sounding hostile. He watched the puddles as they continued to ripple from the drops of rain falling from the leafy canopy of oak trees lining the drive.

"You think you could take a gun...or a knife...or poison...a rope...a wire...anythin'..." Henri reeled off, "and do it? Really _snuff_ someone out like a candle? Could you _handle blood on your hands? _Have blood on your hands for the rest of your life?"

"Yes," Remy sipped from his can of beer, deliberately drawing out how slowly he drank to avoid needing to elaborate any further. _ I could snuff out Jean-Luc for this shit for instance,_ he thought dully to himself.

Henri crushed his empty beer can and tossed it into the open trash can a few feet away, it landed upon the over-filled can perfectly, but toppled out a moment later, landing with a splash in a puddle nearby. "What if the guy – or the girl – didn't deserve it. What if you disagreed with what you were told to do. What then?"

Remy felt increasing uncomfortable with the discussion, and he was very aware that his brother was fully aware of it too. Why couldn't he just admit that Henri was right, he _didn't_ like the idea of taking a life and he wasn't even sure he _could_ do it. Would it be cowardice to admit defeat on the subject? "If someone willin' to put a contract out on someone, then they gotta have done _somethin' _to warrant it," he reasoned uneasily.

"You think so? How about maybe just someone makin' up reasons? Say for instance..." said Henri, getting himself a new can of beer, "that you were told to bump off this guy 'cause he had...I dunno, maybe _raped your_ little blonde birdy, Bella Donna..."

Remy gaped at his brother, "Don't say that shit!" he smacked him on the arm hard enough to smart. "That ain't funny!"

"Weren't meant to be. Just hear me out," Henri warned, holding up his crooked finger once again. "So...you go to all this trouble...you follow the guy for weeks, figure out where he gonna be...how you're gonna do it. You got it _all_ worked out...figured out everything to the letter..." he elaborated further.

Putting down his can of beer, Remy sighed.

"And then...you find out...the guy got kids. Not grown up kids...but proper kids...you know...maybe five year olds...maybe babies. That their momma is dead...and not only that but he's the only _support_ they got. Only support they _ever _gonna have."

"I..." Remy tried, he couldn't find the words. He could almost picture those children who didn't even exist_,_ he could practically see their big eyes looking up at him begging him to _not _kill their father. He could even almost feel guilt for a crime he hadn't even committed. How could you be guilty of a _theory?_

"Could you live with leavin' those babies daddy-less? Could you live with them endin' up in some god-forsaken orphanage bein' neglected by the people sworn to care for 'em?"

A lump developed in Remy's throat; having spent much of his early childhood in such a place, he definitely wouldn't wish such a fate on any youngster. Icy cold nun hands forcing him into icy cold baths, scrubbing him with icy cold washcloths, then making him kneel upon icy cold floors to pray to a God he wasn't sure even existed. "I'd find somewhere for them to go, somewhere _good,_" Remy tried, "I'd make _sure_ they had someone to take them before-"

"Assassins aren't all about the consequence of what happens after the contract, Remy. Wake the hell up. You think you're going to be given leeway to find the kids a new home? You're dreamin'!"

Glancing down at the wet ground unhappily, Remy swallowed the lump. When he spoke again his voice was thick. "I'd find time." _Why am I tryin' to justify this?_

"How about when you finally go to make your move to take the guy out...and you reveal _why_ you're doing it to him..." Henri warned, "what if the guy tells you that _actually_, Bella Donna came on to him...and that he refused her. She got mad...got _real_ mad...and decided to fuck with him...tell her daddy some sob story 'bout how he _ruined_ her..._"_ Henri shrugged. "What would you do, Remy? Could you still do it? You gonna believe him? You gonna believe _her_? Could you go on instinct?"

Remy stared down into his can, he didn't want it any more now. "We steal from the undeservin' all the time, Henri," he reminded, feeling very uncomfortable with this theoretical discussion.

"That's _different, _Remy! We don' leave them broke! We don't leave them homeless! We don't leave them widowed and fatherless on _rumours_ and orders!" Henri smacked a fist into his own hand determinedly. "When it's _killin' _people, it's different! And I don' think you got the _balls_ to do it."

Remy stood up slowly, he didn't feel like listening to this any more. "If I had to..."

"Exactly!" Henri hissed, "Remy, you're my brother, and I love you so I think it's better you hear it from me than anyone else...you're a fucking _pussy _when it comes to battle. You've been the only fence-sitting pacifist in this family all this time. Every altercation the Assassins throw at us, you always stay on the sidelines, tryin' to never get involved. You _never _get involved in the fight."

"That's a lie," Remy uttered, "I fight them all the time."

"Yeah, exactly my point. When you _have _to. When father is threatened, or one of us gets hurt, of course you'll fight. Or when they attack _you._ Self-defence, protecting the cubs in the pride!" Henri's eyes seemed to blaze, "You fight but you don't strike to hurt, you strike to defend or disable! You've never thrown a malicious punch or strike in your life! We're not talkin' about self-defence and trying to get a situation under control...We're talking about murder in cold _blood for money_. I don't think you're _man_ enough to say who live and who die."

"You're wrong," Remy assured, he opened the front door and took one step into the house. "I'm man enough. I'm man enough to do whatever it takes to survive," he assured, he stopped from entering the house entirely, hearing the sound of a car engine approaching.

Jean-Luc's old black Pontiac pulled up the drive and came to a halt in the usual place he parked. He climbed out of it, looking between the two of his sons, Henri sitting getting drunk on the porch steps and Remy standing halfway between inside and out.

Momentarily, Remy forgot about going inside, he stepped back onto the porch and slammed the front door shut behind him, "What the hell?" he demanded of his father instantly.

Jean-Luc shook his head, "not in the mood, Remy."

"Yeah, you know what _I'm_ not in the mood for?" Remy demanded, he had to restrain himself from punching the wooden pillar of the porch, "I'm not in the mood to be followin' Marius Boudreaux around waitin' to be trained like a fuckin' puppy just to make things easier on _you._"

"Stop bein' so over dramatic," Jean-Luc rolled his eyes.

"Over dramatic?" Remy nearly laughed in the absurdity of the accusation. "Can you blame me for bein' a _little _over dramatic? You didn't even have the nerve to _ask_ me before hand! You waited...you stood there _knowin'_ what you were gonna say in The Chamber and you put me right there on the fuckin' _spot_! You didn' even _ask_ me if I would _do_ this. You knew this afternoon this was gonna happen! You knew it and you said jack shit!"

"You know I can't disclose anythin' that happens prior to a guild meetin'," Jean-Luc responded calmly.

"Did you know about Bella Donna's initiation?" demanded Remy.

Jean-Luc gave a heavy sigh and looked away, pursing his lips tightly.

"Did you know?!" Remy asked again, more hostility in his tone this time.

"If I had, it's like I said...I'm obligated to be confidential regardin' anything that is said or arranged prior to a meetin'. You know this. It's _law._"

Henri stood up, swaying drunkenly; he always had been, in Remy's opinion, a lightweight and three beers and a few shots always seemed to do it. "How is _he_ the one with the most potential anyway?"

"Christ, Henri," Jean-Luc headed up the porch steps, apparently in no mood to deal with this.

"I'm the one with the _experience, _the _skill,_ I'm the one who _trained_ Remy to pick his first lock, for Christ's sake!" Henri stopped his father from ascending up the steps. "If anyone should have been picked to go to the Assassins...it's me."

"I wasn't the one who chose him, Henri! Marius chose him."

"Why the hell would he even _want_ me?" Remy demanded, "I'm not even your _blood_..."

"You're the obvious choice," Jean-Luc shook his head at his adopted son. "And you, Henri, it just as well he not pick you...you lose your temper...you're likely to start a _war_ if I send you to Marius."

"I'd never lose my temper with them if I was there," Henri grumbled.

"You? You kiddin' me? You could start an argument in an empty room," Jean-Luc uttered coldly. " And your cousins? None of them got the patience to even stand in the same company as Assassins without it turning to a brawl either. Remy doesn't have grudges with them, and they don't have grudges with him."

Henri snorted, "Yeah, and the only reason for that is that they don't pick on him because he ain't a Thief by _blood. _ He's just an _outsider._"

Remy was used to these jabs every so often from his brother and his father; neither of them ever let him forget he wasn't truly a LeBeau. Such words didn't hurt any more, they'd been used so much, but all the same, the words did nothing to help his temper right at this moment.

"You know why they want him?" Henri fumed. "It's because of that. 'Cause he ain't truly one of us. He ain't blood, so he ain't gonna be a problem. They can brainwash him and turn him against us. And lets face it, all they want is someone who's already willin' to off their whole family for a few coins."

Gripping the rail of the porch hard as he could, Remy wished his anger into the rough grain of the wood and he felt it warm slightly as the tingle of his powers began to travel through every tiny vein in his fingers. The rail began to slightly tremble and glow as the wood began to take on kinetic charge.

"Stop it!" Jean-Luc warned tersely. "And Henri, you shut up."

It took counting backwards from ten for the anger to die down enough for him to absorb the kinetic energy back. He struggled with the frustration inwardly as he examined the hard look on Jean-Luc's face, and the slight alarm on Henri's.

"I can't believe you want _me _to join them," Remy uttered under his breath once he'd calmed himself down enough to speak without screaming. "You _hate_ the Assassins...now you want me to _be_ one?" he tentatively let go of the rail, almost wondering if some residual charge might have remained within the wood grain and exploded upon release.

"This whole exercise is about diffusing a war that's gone on for centuries. This is the first _agreement_ Marius and I have come to since we both became Guild Leaders and by _far_ the best solution that doesn't involve _any_ bloodshed."

Remy laughed incredulously, "you think there won't be bloodshed? Just what _do_ you think Assassins do, _father_?" he demanded, putting emphasis on the word father due to the certain _irony_ of the role. A father wouldn't trade his son. "Eventually..." he shook his head, "eventually there _will_ be bloodshed."

"Yeah, but what do you care?" Henri shot, "You're 'man enough' to do what you have to 'survive'," he pointed out.

"And I am. I'm man enough to kill if I gotta. I just don't _want_ to. I don't want to be one of them," Remy spat. _I barely want to be one of you either,_ he thought angrily, wishing he had the guts to say it.

"You don't got much of a choice. When you took the blood oath on your initiation into the Thieves-" Jean-Luc began.

"When I took the blood oath, I swore I would uphold the laws of The Thieves Guild," Remy interrupted. "I didn't swear my life to the Assassins."

"You swore your life to us, and swore to follow whatever orders given to you regardless if you agreed with them or not," reminded Jean-Luc sharply. "This is an _order._"

"I can't follow orders if I'm not here," Remy clenched his fists; he wasn't sure what to do with his hands and he was afraid he may lash out if provoked. He didn't want to punch his father or brother, and he didn't want to hit any walls or the rail, or accidentally cause anything to blow up. Awkwardly, he folded his arms, he turned his back to Jean-Luc and Henri and sighed.

"You know what would happen," Jean-Luc stated calmly. "Defiance...they see it as dishonour, and you would pay dearly for it. They got the means to hunt you down, Remy...you know what would happen to you...and to us."

Remy grunted, "yeah, well, maybe next time they want to hold you hostage, I just won't come back. Let them slit your goddamn throat and be done with it, maybe then I can lead my life the way I want to."

"You don't mean that," Jean-Luc said softly.

"Don't I?" Remy mused. "You must be able to interpret my feelings better than _I_ can then."

"Do you think I want to send you to them? To be a killer? Do you think I _want_ to see you with blood on your hands?"

"I'd say you do, since you made this decision."

"There _was _no other choice. This was the only way. I'm doin' this for the best of the Guild. You think I _like _havin' my family responsible for the deaths of others? You think I wanna see either of you on the end of an Assassin's blade because you said the wrong thing?! I want this war over. If you got a better idea to stop the Guild feud, then I'm _all_ ears."

Of course, Remy had a better idea, and that was to leave. But leaving would mean one of the biggest sacrifices he would ever make. Jean-Luc was right. To leave for good would an invitation for his family to be slaughtered and for himself to be on the run for the rest of his life. Being on the run for the rest of his life was one thing, he could handle that. But allowing his family to suffer because of what _he'd_ done? He wasn't sure that was something he could live with.

"You know, he may be drunk..." Remy frowned, "but Henri is right. You agreed to givin' me over to them because I'm _expendable. _I ain't your real son so it ain't gonna sting much. That's why I was chosen, and not because I was the so called _better choice,"_ Remy hissed.

"I don't want to see either of you there," Jean-Luc reiterated, with that tone of voice that almost caused Remy to doubt his own words for just a moment.

_He never once said I _wasn't _expendable,_ Remy realised. _Didn't deny that._

"I didn't make this decision, Marius did. He chose _you, _Remy."

"And you chose Julien?" Henri snapped at his father furiously, "We're supposed to seriously believe that? He's a fuck up! He can't take a piss without gettin' it over his own shoes."

Jean-Luc's expression changed, dark, calculating. "I got my reasons."

"I'll tell you why he's takin' Julien," Remy glared, "it's like you say...Julien's a fuck up. There's gotta be repercussions if he betrays us."

"So suspicious," said Jean-Luc, sounding quite cold towards the both of them suddenly. He brushed by both sons and went inside.

Remy pushed through the screen door to follow at his adoptive father's heels, "I got a right to be suspicious. Everythin' you do has a catch! I know you. You're an underhanded son of a bitch."

"Don't you speak to me that way," Jean-Luc warned. "I'm still your father!"

"No. You're no father! You see, a father wouldn't trade his own _son_ like a goddamn Pokemon card!" Remy spat. "I ain't a son, I'm an _investment,_ and one that you expect is gonna pay off somehow. You know what, maybe I'm better off with the Assassins, maybe I _should_ join them, maybe they'll be up front and won't fuck me around like you have since the day you took me in."

"Fucked you around?" scoffed Jean-Luc. "I clothed you, fed you, _trained you_. I made you what you are."

"And what _am _I?" Remy asked.

"You're my son."

"No. If I was, you'd have never agreed to this. _Never," _Remy headed towards the stairs.

"Where the fuck you goin'?" Henri asked, Remy noted he'd come in with them, but had decided to linger at the door, watching the argument.

"To pack. I'm goin' there tonight. This is the last you gonna see of me in this family. I've had enough," he grumbled, he stopped to glare at Jean-Luc. "And you..." he hissed. "I'm done. You adopted me solely to use me for your own gain. You turned me into a Thief, you ruined my childhood, you took me out of school so that even if I _had_ wanted to be _somethin'_ or _someone_, it was never gonna happen. You constantly guilt me into stayin' here. You've never been a father. You've been an _owner _and you've never thought of me as _anythin_' but a slave. And now..." he shook his head in disgust, "now you're turnin' me over to someone else. A new _owner_. Fuck you. Both of you," Remy threw one last look between them, then slammed the door behind himself as he went into pack.

* * *

**End of Chapter Three**

* * *

**Admittedly, a long wait between the posting of this and the previous chapters, had some personal issues (new anti-depressants, took away my ability to focus on working on stuff). Anyway, I'm not actually sure if anyone is even reading this, as the reviews have been few, but hopefully a few more find it interesting once it picks up and a few more chapters get posted (just hoping I find the focus to edit them and get them up, lol).**

**Anyway thanks to anyone who reads and takes the time to review. For anyone wondering, yes I have done some work on the sequel to Magnetic Attraction (onto part 4 already) and possibly considering posting some although have never run two unfinished stories at once so am a little doubtful I'll be able to pull it off (usually try to only run one story at a time). Going to see where the mood takes me in a week or so, lol. 33**


	4. Chapter 4

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Remy dumped his tote bag on the floor in the hall of the Boudreaux mansion. It was a lot more grand than the house he was used to. The carpets were expensive, plush and old. The marble tile floor in the hall was _all _original, ornate and beautiful. In fact, the rug upon which his boots were planted at that moment was probably decades older than Jean-Luc was. He'd never been exceptional at determining the age of fine furnishings but he was almost positive that there was nothing in this particular hallway dating before 1900. He wasn't sure if it'd be impolite to ask and didn't know if he even cared to do so.

_Doesn't matter about how nice the house is, Remy, just watch for any knives they may put in your back, _he told himself sternly.

He wished he could turn back, he wished he had a _choice_ in this matter. He wished he hadn't gotten so mad with Jean-Luc and Henri. Why was it they both had that knack of riling his temper up to fierce heights? Henri had a tendency to pick at him when he drank and he regretted taking the drunken words to heart regardless of how _true _they may have been. Why had he not just admitted Henri was right? That he didn't have what it took to take a life?

If he could take back the entire argument he would have. _Maybe I should beg Marius to take Henri instead. He really seemed to actually _want _to become one of them, not that I can blame him._

Remy wondered if it was possible to make a trade with his brother as his eyes travelled up the wainscotted walls, the damask wallpaper and the various oil paintings. _No. Jean-Luc was right...Henri's temper would probably cause a war...he never can keep his mouth shut. He gets drunk and picks at people just like he did with me tonight, he'd say the wrong thing and next we'd all have our throats cut._

As much as he hated both his father and brother right now...he didn't want to see his brother put into this position and inadvertently cause a war. He didn't want to see anything happen to his family, regardless of past cross words and mistreatments, they were still the only family he would ever have.

"Somethin' wrong?" he heard a voice from somewhere above and he glanced up to the rail near the top of the stairs where Bella Donna was lingering in a tight white t-shirt ; behind the rails, he could see she was clad in a pair of shorts that could barely qualify as panties.

"Dunno," he confessed, trying to ignore the flare of anger he had as he looked at her, feeling the sting of her initiation. He glanced up to the ceiling, admiring the chandelier, the arch above the stairs, the entrance to a hallway possibly leading somewhere towards Bella Donna's bedroom. _No man's land,_ he thought wryly. _Most the boys in the parish would give their eye teeth to set foot in that boudoir._

Bella Donna leaned forward and down on the rail; Remy was almost positive this was so he could see that beneath the collar of the low cut t-shirt she wore nothing but her tan, which was set off so beautifully against the pristine white. Was it an even tan? He was sure he'd eventually find out, accidentally or otherwise. At least he hoped so.

"We expected you to be here tomorrow," Bella Donna confessed in a lazy but sweet honey drawl. "But tonight is fine," she curled her finger towards herself, beckoning him up the stairs.

Remy took a moment to drink in that image of her, beckoning him so seductively, urging him to come upstairs with her. The things that went through his head at that moment would have been enough to give her father cause to have him castrated.

"Surprised I was able to just walk in," Remy admitted, trying to put the thoughts aside as he picked up his bag. "I was gonna come over tomorrow like the plans said I should...I thought I'd get this stupid crap over with..." he shrugged and began up the stairs, "where's your daddy and your brother?"

"Daddy went chasin' after Julien...he's in a bad mood, you see after learnin' he's joinin' the Thieves he just took off. He's probably gone to get wasted."

_I should have done the same thing,_ Remy thought irritably.

"They'll be back any time I reckon," Bella Donna flashed a stunning smile. "So don't be goin' gettin' any ideas."

"Oh, I wasn't," he assured as he met her at the top of the stairs, his eyes fell briefly on the branding on her wrist, it looked red and angry. He examined the design as quickly as he could before she moved her arm. It looked almost like a fleur de lis, except on a closer inspection, he suspected it may be some kind of dagger design. "Believe me, chere, if I was gettin' any ideas...you would know," he couldn't hide the strain in his voice.

"You sound mad," Bella Donna maintained that same sugary tone and gestured for him to follow her down the hallway; he glanced briefly at the back of her her baby blue velour short-shorts: the words 'kiss my …' were dazzling him in all their sparkling rhinestone splendour upon her perfect posterior. At this moment in time, Remy wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss it or kick it.

"Do I have a reason to be?" Remy asked of her seriously as his eyes scanned the surroundings carefully. The Thief in him counted the doors, the number of locks, he mentally already had planned which lock picking tools he would need to use if ever he needed to bypass those doors.

"Do we really need to play this game, Remy LeBeau?" Bella Donna stopped and turned to him, she kept smiling ever so sweetly.

"Okay," he said as he grabbed her arm and swung her against the wall and made her stand there, holding her there by her right shoulder. "Why the _fuck_ didn't you tell me you were gonna be initiated tonight?" he demanded of her. Truthfully, his anger wasn't directed at her, but he needed an excuse, and right now her teasing him wasn't really helping his anger regardless of who it was directed at.

Her eyes raised up to his, searching, her lips curled into a sweet smile, "oh, is that what this is about? Your little _men's world_ is threatened by me bein' the first _female_ Assassin to be initiated into the Guild. You don't like the idea of a woman bein' anythin' other than a helpless little thing, do you?" she teased.

"I'm serious!" he hissed, "I want an answer!" he smacked his free hand against the wall two inches next to her head, surprisingly she didn't even flinch. He wasn't sure why but her lack of response to this turned him on. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me? Did you think it was funny joining the Guild? You _know _what danger that would bring if we-"

Bella Donna let her hand rest upon his belt and tugged him a little closer, "I didn't know I was being initiated when I saw you today, chere" she replied softly, "I got home and there it was on the bed..." she explained.

He raised an eyebrow, slightly curious now.

"The robes...the uniform. All brand new. And _I _knew then. But that was _after_ we had left your house earlier today..." she raised her right leg and hooked it around his left, "believe me, chere..." she buried her hand in his hair and brought him down to her level, she flicked her tongue against his bottom lip, "I was as _surprised_ as you."

Her bare foot rubbed against his calf, this particular act was so highly erotic, it set every nerve in him on edge even more. "You coulda called," he stated, his voice trembled slightly. As turned on as he was by this, he was also incredibly aware of where they were. Did he really _want _to start messing around with the girl in her own house, where her murderous father lived? He could handle himself, yes, but Marius knew his way around many weapons and Remy didn't particularly relish the thought of what that man may do to him with a blade if he were caught defiling his virginal daughter in his own home. Remy rather liked being attached to all his appendages.

"I didn't have time. I was stressed out and nervous enough...I mean, do you know the _pressure _everyone here is putting me under? They were watchin' everythin' I do like a _hawk..._" Bella Donna explained, she stood on her tiptoes and her lips brushed against his jawline. He winced at this, she was too good at this teasing game, and as much as he liked being teased, he didn't appreciate it when he was wound up tighter than a spring. Every nerve in him seemed to be close to exploding with rage and he fought to control it, channel it into calm. It wasn't working as it usually did.

Her light slim fingers lingered on the waistband of his jeans and he was aware of how her index finger had snaked beneath. Her lips shifted, tracing his jaw to his chin. It was driving him insane.

He dipped his head and pushed his lips to hers in a hard kiss hoping it would burn away the fury churning deep in his gut and his loins. Bella Donna laughed softly into his mouth then sucked his tongue and little electric tingles of desire danced up and down his spine in pleasant pirouettes. He pushed the fingers of his free hand beneath her t-shirt to let them slide up and cup her supple left breast, her response was to pull herself up onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist causing him to bang into the wall behind and almost topple into the nearby potted palm. She ground against his groin hard and he moaned appreciatively into her mouth.

In the hall below, out of sight, the front door had opened with a loud, eerie warning creak and then closed with a dull thud and click.

"Belle!" called Marius Boudreaux. He had apparently just entered the house. Remy felt the immediate alarm run his blood cold and he broke his lips from hers, turning to gape towards the passage to the stairs.

Bella Donna hastily dropped from the embrace, and pushed Remy back with one hand while simultaneously she smoothed down her t-shirt. Sniffing, composing herself, she hiked her shorts up a little, "uh huh?" she called out innocently.

"Just heard from Jean-Luc that the LeBeau boy is on his way here," responded Marius from below, there was some shifting sounds as if he were hanging up a coat.

"He's already here, daddy," Belle rushed back to the stairway to lean over the rail to speak to her father.

"I guess this is his bag lyin' here in the middle of the floor?"

"I'd reckon so," said Bella Donna sounding ever so sweet and innocent.

"Did you show him to his room?" asked Marius.

"I'm about to," she assured, Remy glanced down the hall towards her perfect backside as she leaned forward on the rail, giving him an excellent view of the glimmering rhinestones. 'Kiss my …' had never been a more tempting offer.

"Mind that's _all_ you show him," grumbled Marius from down below.

"Oh, daddy," Bella Donna gave a light tinkling laugh that reminded Remy of a perfectly tuned piano. "I am always a _perfect_ lady in the company of young gentlemen," she assured, she shifted, her backside arching, pointed right at him. Remy was quite aware she _knew_ he was looking, she even swayed her backside back and forth as if she were trying to beckon him to it.

_Perfect is pretty much accurate,_ Remy thought as he leaned against the wall, admiring her round posterior and wistfully thinking how wonderful it'd be to get both hands on it. Regardless of her initiation into the Assassins, he wanted her. He wondered perhaps if his _own _initiation would permit him allowance to see her romantically. He supposed if it was allowed though, the relationship wouldn't be

Bella Donna smirked, and came back to Remy in the hallway, "here's the guest room, she placed her hand on the doorknob in a strangely suggestive way as her eyes locked with his.

_Oh god, she's trying to drive me insane. She's deliberately trying to put me on edge,_ he thought, wincing inwardly as her fingers grazed along the doorknob, which was far too obnoxiously shaped for this gesture to be _innocent._

Bella Donna pushed the door and gestured inside, chewing her lip and standing almost coyly at him, her eyes never leaving his.

"After you," he nodded towards the bedroom and his eyes followed her as she entered the room, swaying slowly as she walked and went place to place in the room turning on each small lamp. He stepped in, examining the room in detail. The king-sized bed was a chunky dark oak antique, carved beautifully and glossy with varnish; expensive looking bedlinen and a thick mattress seemed to give the promise of a great nights sleep. The furniture was antique, but nothing overly fancy; old and slightly worn at corners but beautiful all the same.

Despite he should have been more focused on the fact he was alone in a bedroom with the girl he'd been wanting to be with for quite some time, his eyes still darted towards the door to check the inside for locks; there was an old-fashioned lever tumbler lock and the old bitted key was brass, and had an exquisite filigree design that stood out against the painted white of the wood. He also noted at the top of the door, there was a sliding latch just for added security.

"Can't help yourself, can you?" Bella Donna folded her arms and glanced at him disapprovingly. She didn't seem impressed that he was more interested at that moment about his own safety in the room than having her _alone_ there.

"It's the Thief in me," He held the door open but tried the key in the door lock to make sure it worked. "Checkin' the security of a room is pretty much standard. Don't take it personally."

"You're perfectly _safe_ here, Remy," Bella Donna rolled her eyes at him.

"Yeah...but..." he cleared his throat, "all the same, I think I'll maybe sleep with one eye open."

"Why, Remy LeBeau," sighed Bella Donna, "alone in a bedroom with lil' old me and a king sized bed...and all you wanna do is check locks?"

Remy tried the lock on the door again, it had rarely ever been used, and thus, gritted hard against the mechanism, taking a fair bit of effort to turn the key. "It's a little stiff..." he remarked.

"Not the only thing," Bella Donna noted, biting her lip, she reached for him and he shifted out of her touch faster than she could lay a hand on him. Having to move out of her reach pained him terribly. He'd _longed_ for these kind of opportunities for so long, but now it was tainted with _risk_. The risk was certainly a turn on and he certainly _loved_ an element of danger after all, but he didn't know this place, how sound carried, _or _her father's routines and likelihood of stumbling upon them to take any chances.

_I'd have to be stupid to take that chance right now,_ he reminded himself. "Now ain't the time."

Bella Donna's eyes moved to his groin, she bit her bottom lip then asked softly, "you sure about that?"

"I'm sure."

"Somehow I _very _much doubt that," she mused. She put her hand on his waistband again, finger trailing down the seam of the zip on his jeans. He steeled himself against it. An almost impossible task but self control was going to be _vital _to his survival here, he realised.

"Look...last thing I need is for your daddy to catch me handlin' you like that. Far too risky."

"Maybe I like a lil' risk," Bella Donna teased, she went to tug on his zip.

"Don't..." he sighed, he moved away out of her touch and moved towards the window to look outside, it seemed quiet out there. Marius had stepped out to smoke, he was standing just outside of the back porch, he paced a little casually, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Remy wondered what was racing through the man's mind at that moment.

_If I'd been Marius, I'd have been standing at the end of the hall tryin' to eavesdrop on this conversation,_ Remy decided. He supposed he should give the man some credit for _trusting_ him enough to be alone in a room with his teenaged daughter without taking the opportunity to ravage her. Or perhaps this was just a test. Maybe the man _expected _it, and was giving it a few moments to try and catch them out?

"You aren't _afraid_, are you?" Bella Donna dared to ask, almost mocking him, her laugh so light, so airy.

Remy sniffed defiantly, "I ain't afraid. Look, you know me, I don't shy away from risk, I love a little danger. But right now, tonight, ain't the time or the place."

"Seems as good an opportunity as any," Bella Donna reasoned.

"What's the rush?" he turned to look at her, and forced a smile. He didn't feel like smiling right now, he felt like breaking something, or punching something. Sex _would_ have been a welcome activity to burn off that excess energy and the anxiety of what was happening right now...but not here, and certainly not with the daughter of a master Assassin. Besides, he was still a little angry with her for her initiation. He felt she'd had far more warning than she was letting on, and that she could have at least given him a little heads up beforehand.

"There ain't no _rush,"_ Bella Donna admitted, she leaned against the door frame, arm snaking up to rest there, fingers dangling near her blonde hair. "But...I've waited years to get you alone like this...and I'd just...really...really..." she smirked, "like to get my hands on you," she confessed, her voice low, sweet, like thick sticky honey. God, Remy hoped her father couldn't hear this conversation.

"Ain't nothin' I'd like better, chere," Remy confessed. Oh the thought of it, of her hands, of her lips, of her tight and untouched little body being under _his._ It made him ache. "But we gotta be patient. A little while longer ain't gonna hurt. Some things are worth waitin' for."

Bella Donna chewed her lip seductively, her eyes dropped to the floor, her cheeks seemed to flush. His own body flushed too, flushed with hot, dirty thoughts.

"Lets wait a while," he suggested, although the suggestion pained him more than anything else had tonight. "Besides, I ain't one of you _yet_, chere."

"Soon," Bella Donna pushed the door shut and she leaned up to gently brush her lips against his and with that she left him in the room alone. Remy had the distinct feeling that when she'd said _soon_, she wasn't talking about his full initiation into the guild.

At least he _hoped _she wasn't.

* * *

**End of Chapter Four**

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A short but hopefully seductively sweet chapter. Thanks to those who took the time to give reviews on the last few chapters. I'm glad to see some people are reading it (and finding it a nice welcome change from the usual Romy I write, which can sort of get a little predictable given the general circling that tends to follow their relationship).

Am hoping to have a few more chapters up soon which should have Remy's training truly beginning ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter Five**

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Remy couldn't sleep. It was strange, he thought, because honestly in all his time he'd never struggled to sleep anywhere. He'd slept on freight trains, in the luggage compartments of buses, in the cargo holds of ships and even in an out-of-order bathroom on an aeroplane once. He'd slept during thunderstorms, gunfire on the streets of New York, he'd even slept during the last severe hurricane that had hit their Parish.

But sleeping in a bedroom in the home of Assassins was something else entirely. Although the door was locked, Remy kicked the door-wedge under it hard to ensure no one would be getting in. Regardless of the intense heat of the room, he'd locked the window which left him uncomfortable but gave him slight peace of mind.

Admittedly, Remy had never had problems with sleeping in the dark, but he couldn't bring himself to do it in such an unfamiliar and dangerous house and so, he slept with the dim bedside lamp on, and lay facing the door so that he would be able to keep an eye on the door knob, and check for anyone trying to get in from the other side.

The antique clock on the dresser ticked the seconds away softly, but with each minute, the hand would click loudly into position and he was aware of it. He watched the hands move from hour to hour across the face of Roman numerals.

At three different intervals, he went to relieve his bladder in the en-suite bathroom, although he was unsure if he had actually needed to urinate or if this was just his worried mind giving him excuses to get up and check the room. Each time after completing his ablutions, he would examine the room thoroughly for anything unusual such as bugs or mini cameras. He'd had the sensation he'd been under surveillance all night, but each search had come up blank. He'd even looked in the less obvious places, such as the spray of real flowers on the dresser, the china figurine on the old unused fireplace, and the ceiling lights. He had to commend whoever did the cleaning of the house at least, as there was not a speck of dust to be found anywhere in the bedroom. Not even on the ceiling light fixings.

_Could just be that they cleaned everythin' after installin' surveillance equipment, _Remy reasoned with himself, unable to shake that horrible feeling of being watched. _Installin' cameras and bugs tends to leave dusty fingerprints and marks. _

During the long sleepless night, at one point he had even thought perhaps the mirror above the antique dresser may be a two-way-mirror and that someone might be standing behind there watching every move he made as if he were some kind of exhibit, or a fish in an aquarium. The mirror was fixed securely to the wall, which he knew wasn't a very good sign. He ran his fingers carefully across the smooth cold glass but didn't see any signs of it being two-way.

_You're just being paranoid,_ he told himself as he gazed at his tired reflection, he noted his hair was sticking up at on side and he smoothed it down, feeling uneasily studied as he did so. _No one is watching, it's just your imagination_.

When the hour hand on the clock on the dresser finally hit 'VI', he gave up on sleep. He pushed himself away from the bed, his body felt heavy and drained of all energy. He changed from the boxer shorts he'd been wearing to bed into a pair of old worn jogging pants and a T-shirt, and left the guest room.

The house was quiet; no one else had arisen it seemed. He dared not try any handles yet – it was too early to be caught snooping. He could always do that later, once he understood the Boudreaux routines and would know exactly when he had time to do so without being caught. He lingered for a moment outside of Bella Donna's bedroom and _almost_ contemplated sneaking into awaken her, to initiate something intimate. He knew it was her room, judging by the decorative crystal doorknob and the traces of pale pink nail polish that had rubbed off on the white painted wood just below the knob. He could imagine her reaching for it with her freshly painted fingernails, but it only made him imagine her reaching for _him _and his body flushed and he quickly left the area before he could be happened upon loitering there like a pervert.

Downstairs, an elderly housekeeper who could only speak a basic mangled version of English mixed with French was puttering around kitchen cooking many things for breakfast. He had the distinct feeling he was in her way so he decided to excuse himself.

Feeling at a loss as to what to do to keep himself entertained, he left the house and went for a run in large circles around the perimeter. The woods surrounding the Bordreaux estate were quiet other than the sounds of nature and a soft breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. Remy felt the sweat pour down his back and drip down his temples as he ran steadily, free-running over every obstacle he saw; an old truck (sans its wheels) hidden away out of sight, some fallen trees, a small stream. It was odd, he couldn't shake that sense of being watched, and was unsure if perhaps it really was his imagination or if he really were being spied upon. Despite the feeling left a tight unease at the back of his neck, he forced himself to continue with his exercise, and eventually lost track of time. When his joints began to burn with the strain, he gave up and he headed back to the house in a slow paced jog.

Outside, Marius was smoking a cigarette, his expression curious as he watched Remy approach from the woods. "We thought you'd taken off," he admitted coolly.

"My stuff is still upstairs," Remy pointed out, swiping the back of his wrist against his forehead. Of course, it was true, he had thought about just taking off while free-running around the area – after all, the bag he'd brought with him was full of replaceable stuff that meant barely anything to him. The feeling of being watched however, had definitely put him off the idea of wanting to make a quick exit. Who knew who was hiding in all that foliage out there? Was it _paranoid _to feel like a sniper could be watching him? Probably, but better safe than sorry.

"So you like to keep yourself fit, huh?" Marius took a long drag of his cigarette then exhaled through his nose.

"Thieves gotta be in shape," Remy admitted, he stopped at the foot of the porch and bent down to rub the back of each calf muscle.

"You go the extra mile the others don't though," said Marius, "and not just because you're young and agile and because you _can_, but because you like to be on top of your game."

Remy sat on the bottom step of the porch, he withheld a sigh.

"This is why you were picked. Your commitment...your hard work."

"Why not _Henri_?" asked Remy casually, "He's much more skilled than I am...he's the fastest lock picker in the Guild."

"Henri is a fine example of a Thief. But that's all he is. He's dedicated to one thing...and you...a jack of all trades! You are dedicated to everything you put your mind to. If we wanted a lock picker, we'd hire a lock picker. You...however..." Marius pursed his lips for a moment. "We've been watching you for a while, Remy. You adapt fast, you see everything around you and you find a way to implement it in everything you do. You are deadly with a weapon – and yet you choose not to be. You fight dirty but you do so in an honourable way. You're exactly what this Guild has been looking for for some time."

Remy snorted, "think you're over-exaggerating my value just a tad," he swept his hand through his sweaty hair, trying to ignore the exhaustion that was settling in from his lack of sleep.

"Do I look like a man who _over-exaggerates?" _asked Marius, his expression dark suddenly.

Remy didn't like that look, and so he replied quickly, "not at all. I just think maybe you've picked the wrong guy, is all."

"I've made no mistakes. If I had come across you myself before your father recruited you from the streets, I would have made you one of us. You have everything it takes to be a _true Assassin_."

Dully, Remy disagreed. _Not everything,_ he thought. _I have the urge to murder people...that's surely an important requirement for the job._

_ "_Now...go shower and get dressed. I think the sooner we begin with your training, the better."

It was barely half an hour later, after a shower and changing into some comfortable jeans and an old t-shirt that Remy found himself sitting at the breakfast table in the Boudreaux kitchen.

"The first thing you need to know, as an Assassin," said Marius, who was sitting diagonally away from him at the breakfast table, "is to know your instincts."

Remy stared down at the various plates of food on the table. Everything that a guy could want for breakfast seemed to be there. Toast, oatmeal, bacon and eggs, waffles, pancakes, fruit, cereal. Yes, it was definitely all there. It felt so strangely surreal to be sitting there at the _Assassin's _table on a Saturday morning.

Actually, the whole _night_ had felt rather surreal.

"What do you see?" Marius asked, gesturing to all the food laid out on the table.

Remy's eyes roved across the table. He was slightly hungry; not enough to warrant trying a little of everything though. "Breakfast?" he asked stupidly. He knew the answer his new mentor was looking for, but for the sake of learning more about the enemy and _their_ methods of teaching, he decided to play it dumb for now. By the look on Marius' sharp face, he knew he'd erred.

"Don't play that game," Marius warned, "we both know you're sharp. That's why you were picked to do this. Now, I'm gonna ask _again. _What do you see?"

"Choices," finally, Remy gave in after a moment of contemplation. "Too many," he added rather truthfully. "A lot of good ones, a lot of bad."

"Exactly," said Marius with a nod.

Bella Donna was in the kitchen, being distracting as she wandered around in her short-shorts (the same from last night, apparently they were pyjama bottoms) with bendy curlers dangling from her long sun-kissed hair. Remy kept trying to avoid glancing at her, but his eyes somehow kept being drawn to her. Even in the morning she looked stunning. Stunning enough that his heart skipped several beats and his blood rushed to his centre.

"Tell me about the choices, LeBeau, and stop ogling my daughter!" Marius snapped his fingers at Remy to get his attention off of sixteen year old Bella Donna, who was sipping from a large glass of fresh orange juice.

"Well," Remy said, glancing towards the dishes of food again, "is like you said. It's knowin' your instincts, right?" he pushed his hand against the dish with the eggs and bacon and moved it to one side of the table, "for instance this is the bad choice...so you substitute it with..." he shifted the large dish of oatmeal to the other side of the table, "this."

Marius nodded, apparently pleased with this decision.

"What you mean?" Bella Donna asked as she sauntered over, she let her elbow rest on her father's shoulder as she looked down at the table. "All looks good to me."

"That's the point," Remy stated, "it all _looks_ good. It all looks _real _good, but there's some good choices there and some bad choices. Might all me what you'd _want,_ but not necessarily what you'd _need._"

"How so?" she asked, she raised her orange juice to her lips. Remy wasn't sure if it was his imagination but it seemed she was wearing lip gloss at eight-forty-five am when she wasn't even dressed yet. He was sure he could smell perfume too.

"Okay," began Remy, trying to put sex out of his mind for the moment, "Lets say...you got...I dunno...a big thing to do. You all are _Assassins, _so I guess...you got a contract to carry out? Maybe right before lunch?" he asked.

"Okay," Bella Donna shrugged.

"You aren't going to eat bacon and eggs on a day you got a big contract to carry out," Marius explained to Bella Donna. "Do you know _why,_ Belle?"

She shrugged, "I dunno. Seems like a good enough breakfast to me," she picked a slice of crispy bacon from the plate and bit into it, her eyes gazing at the display of food.

"Remy is gonna explain that," Marius responded, gesturing to him.

"You got to be able to plan ahead," Remy explained to her, "and know how you're gonna be and how you're gonna feel. You _don't_ eat bacon and eggs on a day you're gonna go kill someone 'cause for one thing...it's a bad meal. Salty, greasy, bad for the heart, bad energy release. You'll never know if the bacon was _bad,_ if the eggs were _bad,_ you'll never know if the bacon gonna disagree with you, make you sick, etc."

"Right," Marius nodded.

"But if you eat somethin' like...cereal...or oatmeal," Remy explained, "You got more chance of your energy levels stayin' consistent enough for a few hours for you to be able to get the job done."

Bella Donna smirked, "so you're sayin'...food equals instincts."

"No, it's just an example," Remy shrugged. "The differences between these foods may as well be the difference between takin' the right road or takin' the left. Takin' a dagger or takin' a gun. It's about bein' able to trust your gut and knowin' what to expect. Instincts will let you know the right choices to make."

Marius glanced over his shoulder at her, "I hope you're payin' attention..." he warned her.

Bella Donna sat down primly in the chair across from Remy; he felt her foot press against his ankle although she remained quite still and composed all the same. Her father wouldn't have caught on at all that she was rubbing his ankle with her bare toe, pushing the hem of his pants leg up and letting her bare skin graze his.

"Instincts play a huge part of what you do in every day life," Marius explained to Bella Donna. "And as of now, you need to start trainin' those instincts so they lead you in the right direction. Kick start your instincts now, and they will _never_ let you down."

Remy ladled a helping of oatmeal into the bowl before him while at the same time he became increasingly aware of Bella Donna's foot riding it's way up the inside of his leg and up his thigh, "don't think you got much to worry about, sir," he confessed to Marius as he quickly pushed his legs shut to avoid her from getting much further, "Seems to me she's got some pretty good instincts."

* * *

**End of Chapter Five**

* * *

Damn that food analogy made me hungry.

Thanks to anyone who left reviews for the past few chapters. Am really enjoying this story as it's such a step back from the usual Remy/Rogue angst and gloom and doom. No manic depressiveness or suicide here hopefully :) Just lots of sexual tension and some future awkwardness for Remy as he tries to learn to be a killer _without_ having to kill anyone ;)

Love you all 3


	6. Chapter 6

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

** Authors note: This chapter deals with the murder of an animal. Read with caution. **

* * *

Remy couldn't remember ever feeling quite so drained of all his gusto before; up until he saw the German Shepherd leashed to the tree at the back of the Boudreaux mansion, he had been _almost_ enthusiastic. It had _almost_ been a promising day. Marius seemed impressed with him, and he was beginning to _almost _vaguely relax.

It had been Marius's idea to take a walk to the outside of the woods surrounding the perimeter of the Bordeaux mansion, and they had left via the back door. Marius led the way to a _specific_ spot, and Remy had not seen this coming. Within five minutes, Remy found that Marius had led the way to the dog tied to a tree just there by the outskirts of the woods then he unsettlingly pulled out a 9mm handgun.

Breakfast had been light enough and yet it suddenly felt very heavy in Remy's stomach as he watched Marius load up the magazine for the gun from a box of bullets that had apparently been in his pocket the whole time.

The dog was laying on the ground looking lazy and half-content; it stared between them, unassuming, not even bothering to bark at either of them and as Remy looked between dog and new mentor and his eyes fell upon that pistol, he realised that something very wrong was about to occur.

"There's this lil' test I need to make you take before I can put you through any further trainin', LeBeau," said Marius as he popped the magazine into the gun, he made some adjustments, made sure the safety was on and tossed the gun towards Remy, "here."

Remy caught the gun in both hands, but held it almost as if it were a newborn that had just affectively shit its diaper and he had no way of changing it. "What the-"

"Shoot the dog."

He had _known_ it was coming. The man wouldn't have stood there loading up the gun if he hadn't intended on Remy killing a poor defenceless animal. Remy's stomach seemed to back flip and he glanced down at the dog, feeling those large brown eyes stare up at him with a sad kind of surrender.

"But..." Remy swallowed, "the dog ain't done nothin' to deserve it."

Marius frowned, "How you expect me to trust you can be brought into my ranks if you can't even shoot a dog?" he demanded. "You're going to be expected to hold that gun against the head of a _person _some day, LeBeau. A dog is nothin'. If you can't kill an animal...how you gonna kill a person?"

Remy glanced at Marius uneasily; he was right, of course. It was a horribly valid point and one he couldn't argue. Somehow, he had _expected_ something like this to eventually arise. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Yesterday he'd been a lazy thief sitting in a tree enjoying the summer and watching a gator in the swamp. Today he was about to snuff out the life of an innocent unsuspecting animal.

He took off the safety and steadied himself; he pointed the gun towards the poor German Shepherd, his finger curled around the trigger, yet he couldn't bring himself to pull it.

"Shoot it!"

He aimed, lining up the sight with the centre of the dog's head. God the heat out here was excruciating. He felt a trickle of sweat dancing its way down the side of his head, tracing down his cheek and to his jaw in one slow slither as he adjusted his aim slightly.

"Shoot!"

His hand was shaking, he couldn't find the strength to pull the trigger and kill the canine. With a shaking breath, he lowered the gun a little, "No," Remy refused.

"Why the fuck not?!" Marius demanded angrily.

Remy lowered his eyes defiantly away from the man, he took his finger away from the trigger, but held onto the gun all the same.

"What the fuck _use_ are you to the Assassins if you can't even kill a fuckin' dog?!"

"I didn' say I can't," Remy lowered the gun completely, "I just _won't,"_ he dared to say.

"It's an order!"

"I won't kill it for no reason."

"The reason is it is an order," Marius sneered, "the point, LeBeau, as _you well know_ is that when you are _contracted_ to kill someone, or _somethin'_, you kill it. No questions asked. You don' _need_ any other valid reason!"

Remy winced at the yelling of the man. His rage was even worse than Jean-Luc's. He felt that same sensation of being small and insignificant, the way he always did when he was told he was messing up, or he was a disappointment. It made him feel like a little boy all over again.

"Now...shoot."

Remy raised the gun towards the dog again, the big brown eyes seemed to meet with his own mutant eyes and ask _'why? I'm just a dog!'_. Remy frowned and tried to steady himself. He thought of his brother and what he'd be doing at this moment. He was probably talking Julien Boudreaux through some complicated lock picking techniques the boy would no doubt _never_ learn properly. He thought of Jean-Luc, probably scheming how he would use Remy's association with the Assassins to some new advantage somehow. What would happen to them if he _didn't_ shoot this damn dog?

"Shoot it!"

"No!" Remy lowered the gun again, his nerves shot.

Marius grabbed Remy's wrist and held it at the right angle, pointing directly at the poor dog's head. "Now...pull the goddamn trigger," he commanded, never taking his eyes off of Remy's face.

The bang was deafening, his ears rang and the birds up in trees took off in a panicked flight. Remy snapped his head away before he could witness the carnage of his reluctant actions, his eyes met a crow that had been minding it's own business in the woods, the thing flapped almost frantically as it made a getaway.

"There," said Marius, apparently satisfied. "Ain't pretty, but it had to be done."

Remy dropped the gun on the ground; he felt cold all over, as if his blood had turned to ice despite this insane heat. Had he really just shot an innocent animal? He was sure he was going to throw up. Marius spent a moment looking almost perplexed, as if something wasn't sitting quite right with him. What Remy noted the man did _not _look was remorseful one bit. How could he be so hard and cold when an innocent animal now lay dead on the bed of dry grass, dead leaves and twigs?

"Death is an ugly business LeBeau. Learn to harden yourself to it," Marius finally said, he gestured to the gun upon the ground. "That gun is now yours."

Remy wasn't sure how to respond to this, so simply uttered a quiet, "thank you." He supposed he was _supposed_ to be grateful, that was the kind of respect a man like Marius Bordreaux _expected_.

"Bury the dog," said Marius, sighing deeply as he stared down at his dead animal. He sounded strangely sympathetic almost right then as he raised his eyes back to Remy, and almost seemed to be able to read the anxiety right there. "Take the rest of the day to gather your nerves, this only the beginnin'."

When Marius had left the area, Remy immediately moved to the nearest bush and parted with his oatmeal. He noticed a splatter of the poor canine's blood on his knuckle as he went to wipe his mouth and a second wave of breakfast arose. After pulling himself together after a third wave of vomit came up, he went to retrieve the gun. The gun lay where he'd dropped it upon the dead grass, a shining silver reminder of what he'd done. He took some time to pluck up the nerve to pick the thing up, which he found strangely unlike himself as he'd never been afraid of guns before. The gun was oddly cold despite having just been fired only moments before. Even the barrel was stone cold despite the intense summer heat. It didn't even smell of gunpowder.

_What the fuck?_ He thought, feeling utterly bewildered.

"I'm sorry."

Remy turned to see Bella Donna standing there in her jeans and hot pink halter-top. Her hair was loose and wild, stirring the hot summer breeze that threatened to make this a very uncomfortable afternoon.

Remy saw the 9mm Pistol that matched the one he was holding; it was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. "You...it was _you_ that shot the dog..." he stammered. Now he realised why his gun was so cold. It had never been fired. Bella Donna had fired from nearby. No wonder Marius had looked so perplexed, surely he'd noticed the sound difference? Had he noticed there was no smoke?

_Jesus, Marius must have realised something is up, this could get us into some serious deep shit, this is reason enough to have me killed,_ Remy realised in utter horror.

Her eyes dropped to the unfortunate animal, now laying dead in the grass by the tree. "He was old, he was going to die slowly and painfully..." she admitted. "He had cancer...that's why daddy brought him here. To put him out his misery."

"But t' kill the poor thing..." Remy swallowed.

"You got to understand," Bella Donna said, sounding far more sure of herself than she had at breakfast, "You can't let them _see _you weak. Otherwise you'd let them see what can hurt you," she explained. "If they say shoot...you better goddamn shoot. You think about why later...you cry about it when you're alone if you _have _to...but you never ask why, and you never refuse..." she advised. "You saw that he kept his eyes on you the _whole _time...he never even looked at the gun...he wanted to see your reaction...that's what this was about..." Bella Donna pointed out.

_If he was lookin' at me he might have not noticed the gun didn't fire,_ Remy tried to calm himself.

"Next time, _don't _turn your head. He saw your weakness, and he'll look for it again. _Don't _show it or you ain't gonna survive here."

"But...that dog..." Remy shook his head in disgrace.

"Just 'cause we're killers...it doesn't mean the reasons aren't sometimes _honourable..."_ Bella Donna assured. "Sometimes...the reasons are right."

Remy didn't agree. There was never anything honourable in taking money for murder. There'd surely been a more _humane _way to put the dog down. Remy was positive he'd never be able to watch 'Old Yeller' ever again now.

He tried to convince himself that Bella Donna was right, because it was much better to try and accept this than the real reality of it. His eyes caught a splatter of blood on the leg of his jeans and a fourth wave of nausea hit.

Perhaps Henri had been right. Perhaps he _wasn't_ man enough to do this.

Bella Donna reached to the nearby tree where a shovel had been propped against it, and she took it and reached it out to him. "He's no longer in pain," she said softly, "and he was in a lot of it. You've eased his sufferin'."

Remy accepted the shovel uneasily, "and what about the _people _I'll be asked to kill, Belle. They gonna all be sufferin' too?" he asked almost insolently.

Bella Donna bit her lip momentarily, she stared up at him, her expression confident, so unlike the tease she'd been at breakfast, "from the minute we're _born_, we're dyin', Remy. _Life _is an illness," she explained. Remy had the distinct feeling these words were _not _her own. These were words that had been drilled into her by someone else.

"Who are we to say who lives and who dies?" Remy asked coldly.

Bella Donna laughed lightly, "_we _don't ask, and we don't _say. _We just do. That's what my grandfather taught me, that's what daddy taught me, and that's what I'm gonna teach you now. You're not here to decide, you're here to _do._ Bury the dog, Remy and try to remember that he's out of his misery."

_Who gonna put me out of mine?_ Remy wondered unhappily as he sunk the shovel into the earth by the left of the tree. It seemed to him that he was going to be in _a lot _of misery from now on, and perhaps for the rest of his life. He watched Bella Donna walking away from him, wondering if he'd ever quite be able to look at her the same after this. Suddenly his lust for her didn't feel quite so immediate as it once had. In fact, it had subsided faster than it would have if he'd been doused in ice water.

Despite the agony of his aching joints from the over-zealous morning free running session, he worked hard to dig the grave for the dog. He dug it deep, hoping that the deeper the better and that some other animal wouldn't end up digging the poor creature back up. Remy had to look away again as he pushed the carcass into the hole, and he would not allow himself to loo k at the grave again properly until the dead animal was consumed in earth. Although it hadn't been requested, Remy used some rope and a couple of old planks he found lying around to make a makeshift grave marker as to where the dog was buried. It wasn't as good as an engraved tombstone, but he supposed it would have to do. The dog at least deserved that, didn't he?

_What was the dog's name? _he wondered. _No, on second thought, don't even want to know if it had a name._

It was wise if he tried to ignore the thought of the dog being named, that it might have had a personality, that it may have once run free chasing rabbits and squirrels, and protected this family from intruders.

_Stop thinkin' about it,_ Remy told himself sternly as he pushed the wooden grave marker into the loose soil mound on the top of the grave. _Just try to pretend like this never happened. _

Before he left the grave, he put his hand upon the hand-made grave marker and sighed miserably. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and with that he left the area. He hoped he would never have to return to that exact spot again.

* * *

**End of Chapter Six**

* * *

**I know, I know it was a _horrible_ thing to write about. Hopefully I won't be flamed for this. It felt like the kind of thing an Assassin would use as a prime example of a first hand kill, as an introduction into having to take another life without question.**

**In case anyone doubts Bella Donna's excuse that the dog was sick, it was. **

**Thanks for the last few reviews, it's always nice to hear from people who read my stories. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Remy gazed out of the passengers seat window of Marius Boudreaux's black 4x4. The sun was still rising, and behind the rows of trees, the sky was a strange mix of violet and blue tinged with the tiniest glow of yellow low-lighting, slim pink clouds already skimmed the sky, the promise of a beautiful day ahead.

He'd thought the first night in the Boudreaux house had been particularly rough, but it was nothing compared to the past few. The next three sleepless nights had been filled with visions of that poor German Shepherd, the way it had looked at him before it had been shot. No matter how many times Remy had scrubbed his knuckles almost until they were raw, he still felt as if the blood splatters were still there, staining his skin. Henri had been right. He couldn't handle blood on his hands.

His eyelids felt heavy and his mind felt oddly numb as the drone of the engine sent him into a near hypnotic state. Marius wouldn't let him put the radio on regardless of how tired he was, and Remy pondered if this was some kind of wicked endurance test. _See how long you can stay awake, that's the point. See if you're able to keep yourself alert._

Remy sighed as he thought of their plans for the next two days; he didn't relish it. Hunting for large game had never been an activity that he'd ever been interested in participating in. His father and brother had never been that interested in hunting or camping out in the wild. Their ideas of father-son weekends were going to New Orleans to get drunk and visit strip clubs, not roughing it and bonding over campfires.

"You'll sigh yourself off the face of this Earth one of these days," Marius remarked irritably, he shot Remy a look before turning his attention back to the road.

Taking this opportunity to share his grievance, he turned to Marius, "I just don't see why we gotta take off on a camping trip to go hunt. I'm not a hunter, I've _never _been a hunter, and I don't even have a permit."

Marius chuckled, "you're concerned about breaking the _law_? You're joking, right?"

"Breakin' the law when it pertains to my..._career_ path...well that's an occupational requirement. But this...this is just...unnecessary."

"I have a news flash for you, LeBeau," Marius turned the 4x4 down a dirt road leading down to a clearing. "This _is_ your occupation now. And it _is _necessary."

"If I pass and I'm initiated, then it's my occupation," Remy reminded. "That's what you said. It all depends on if I'm good enough to _be_ an Assassin."

"You are. We wouldn't have chosen you if we didn't think you were capable."

Disgrace and disgust fell over Remy; he knew he wasn't capable of this, he couldn't take the life of the dog and he doubted he would be able to take the life of some innocent animal roaming the forest minding its own business.

Remy stared around at the clearing as Marius parked the car; it struck Remy at once that this wasn't an official hunting area. The lack of any signs, warnings, or proper designated parking signified this was definitely off the beaten track, probably on private land.

"We'll walk the rest of the way," Marius explained.

"Terrific," Remy uttered he as he followed Marius to the back of the car to help unload the camping supplies and rifles. Loaded with most of the heavy equipment on his back – another endurance test, Remy suspected – Remy followed Marius through the woods.

The walking was for hours, and barely a word was said between them. Remy tried to pay attention to the world around him, tried to enjoy the sounds of birds, the cool shade of the canopy of leaves from an otherwise hot summer morning. Instead, he could barely stay awake, trance-like he walked behind the older man, feeling as if he may be on autopilot.

Remy thought it was no wonder he was exhausted. Even if he _had_ gotten a few good nights sleep at the home of the Assassins, it still wouldn't have been enough to leave him with one ounce of energy after the excessive training and lecturing. For the past three mornings, he had awakened feeling groggy and drained; a free run in the woods surrounding the Boudreaux house was enough to get his internal motors running and keep him awake through the day, but his mind was still left half-asleep as he struggled to do his training _and_ the excessive amount of chores that Marius kept finding for him to do.

At least none of those chores had included murdering any more innocent animals.

"Pick up the pace," Marius huffed glancing over his shoulder at Remy, who was some way behind. "Wake up, LeBeau."

Remy frowned, but sped up a little. He tried keeping his mind awake by thinking about the events since his arrival at the Assassin's home. He thought of Bella Donna. Remy still felt slightly shaken by the lack of remorse in her expression as she'd stood there after what she'd done. How could someone take a life and just...be so blasé? Perhaps the shot taken _had _been a mercy killing, but to do it without showing any sympathy or even sorrow...that to Remy really meant one thing, Bella Donna really _was _a born Killer, just like the rest of her messed up kin.

"We'll stop here," said Marius; they'd happened upon a nice reasonably level clearing, enough shade to ensure there the air was cool enough to live in, and enough flat surface to pitch a tent. Remy unclipped his backpack and let it slip off, he heard the dull thud it made on the long grass.

Marius found a large rock to sit upon and took his bottle from his backpack to take a slow sip, his expression thoughtful. Remy realised he was expected to pitch the tent alone, and sighed as he began to get to work.

"Stop your sighing," Marius warned.

Remy sighed quietly to himself with his back turned, "why we out here anyway?" he asked as he rolled out the two man tent.

"It's part of your training, I thought you understood that," Marius closed the cap of his water bottle; he went about checking the equipment they'd brought with them, and the supplies in the backpack Remy had been hauling along. "You have the stealth and patience, Remy. But you're weak...I saw weakness in you when you shot the dog. You looked away. I can't have that Hesitance is a weakness and so is the inability to look at your kill. This cannot happen again. You might not be a cold-hearted killer, Remy LeBeau, but you need to convince us that you can _act_ as one."

Pausing, Remy glanced down at the tent, "before I left...I had an argument with my big brother, Henri. He told me he doesn't think I have what it takes to do this."

"He's wrong," said Marius.

"I never wanted to be a Thief," Remy admitted quietly as he went about fitting all the poles together, "I always just...played the hand I was dealt. Some people are a lot worse off. I've lived on the streets, I know how life works. Some people just sit and take it, some people just give in, and some...they fight, they _survive. _I've always told myself..._always..." _Remy stared into space momentarily as he thought of the darker days of his childhood. "I would do _anythin'_ in order to survive."

"And that..." Marius said softly, "is why I wanted _you_. I see the fighter, the survivor, the one who will adapt. I see such a potential in you, potential to be truly spectacular, to become someone that in twenty years time will be the template to which our young initiates aspire to be."

Remy stared down to the ground, feeling slightly crestfallen. He didn't doubt that he had the potential to do everything Marius expected of him, but the thought that it would take becoming a cold-hearted murderer to do so left an ache inside of him. Every thought within him screamed that this was all wrong, and there had to be a better way.

_There is no better way. I can't fail, I can't mess up the trials or tests. It's all set in stone. I'm an initiate and I will be an Assassin whether I want to or not. Defiance is death. _

After pitching the tent and taking a little while to rest his weary bones, Remy was urged to get up and continue. The two gathered the bare essentials of the hunting equipment they had brought. Marius produced an aerosol can from his backpack, and two airtight bags filled with clothes soiled with dirt, bits of tree bark and twigs.

"What is this?" Remy raised an eyebrow at the older man.

"Strip, spray yourself, wear these."

"Why?"

"Just do as you're told," Marius commanded irritably.

After undressing grudgingly in front of the older man – and spraying himself with the strange smelling aerosol, Remy changed into the clothes provided. Remy resented this as they were a poor fit and smelled oddly of cedar. The two went off on their way. A good portion of the hunt was tracking, and tracking was a tediously slow process of finding any dung or animal prints of decent sized game. Remy failed to see the tracks, but Marius was a keen hunter and seemed to know exactly what he was looking for.

Remy had tried to ask if perhaps they could just kill a few rabbits...rabbits weren't too bad, he could _live_ with himself perhaps if he'd killed a couple of rabbits. But Marius was adamant, it had to be large game.

It took several hours to track a deer; being stealthy in the woods wasn't as effortless as it was in a house or a building. The ground was covered in twigs and old dead leaves and even the grass was too dry meaning the sound of it brushing against Remy's boot was loud enough to alarm the first Doe they came across. The skittish animal took off, quickly darting between the trees, the flash of her white tail mocking them. Remy fumbled with his gun, half-heartedly trying to aim for the poor thing before Marius stopped him.

"No," he warned, "You don't take a shot at a running deer. You'll miss and the blast will alert every animal in the area."

Remy sighed as he lowered the rifle, "I'm sorry, I-"

"Be more careful; slow, steady movements. Come on, Remy, you _know_ this. You've spent the last ten years training to move like a shadow."

"Not in the woods," Remy reminded uneasily.

"Then do what you _always _do and adapt. Now come on."

* * *

There were only three times in Remy's life that he could remember ever being so sick he'd vomited so violently.

The first memory was when he was fourteen years old and he and Henri had gate crashed a Kegger full of high school seniors; a bunch of cheerleaders (still in uniform) had dared him to drink two bottles of Jack Daniels in five minutes flat. His prize for doing so was to have a photo taken of the entire team without their tops and bras on. He still had that photo on his bedroom wall, although the memory was somewhat hazy due to his passing out and waking up in an emergency room after having his stomach pumped following his being stricken with alcohol poisoning.

The second memory was of eating some particularly bad Crayfish the afternoon before a date with Traci Ingman. The date had gone well until in the middle of inflagrante delicto, his stomach suddenly started convulsing violently and he unexpectedly puked right onto Traci's breasts. It might have been hilarious had she not cried hysterically and then kicked him in the nuts while he was still naked and vulnerable to the attack.

The third memory...well...that had only been days ago, when Bella Donna had shot that poor dog.

So having very little experience with being as violently sick as this, Remy found it even harder to try and pull himself together as he was leaning over an old fallen tree throwing up. His stomach convulsed angrily and his body shook as if every nerve were being poked and pulled every which way.

"Aren't you done yet?" Marius huffed impatiently from several feet away.

Remy went to wipe his mouth but then thought the better of it. His hands were soaked with the blood of an Elk that Marius had not only made him shoot, but made him _skin_.

Remy had gone into some kind of strange trance the moment Marius had made him pull the trigger; the noise had been deafening and for a moment, Remy heard a distinct ringing in his ears and the sounds of the birds taking of from the trees sounded oddly muted. The Elk had fallen to the ground with a heavy disturbing thud but it had not died. Instead, it lay, crying in pain, trying to get up and failing miserably. Remy and Marius had approached, and Remy saw that he had caught it in the neck. He realised he'd probably hit some kind of nerve which was causing the poor animal blinding agony.

"Kill it!" Marius had demanded, "kill it now!"

He'd been unable to do anything but stand there and stare at the poor creature, the life he had ruined, the poor thing that had been minding its own business, probably just looking for food or a place to settle. Now...now it was dying slowly, suffering.

"Put it out of it's goddamn misery!" Marius instructed.

And he couldn't. The rifle had fallen from his weak fingers and discharged. Marius pushed him out of the way, swearing angrily; he took a hand gun from a holster at his hip and shot the creature between the eyes.

Remy still saw the mess of blood and bone, he still felt the stickiness of wet blood and the warmth of it's flesh. For the most part, he'd been in so much shock he'd gone through the skinning process with Marius almost as if on auto-pilot, following orders without realising what he was doing, damaging some of the skin in the process through clumsiness and inexperience.

It took some time yet before the vomiting stopped and Remy's stomach felt strong enough to allow him to stand again. Marius had cut a decent piece of meat from the animal and wrapped it up in some plastic he'd brought. Remy hauled the skin of the animal with him, which was already starting to smell. They made their way back to the camp, Remy ever aware of that iron-like smell of blood on his hands, and the dirty gamey smell of the Elk skin.

After they packed the skin in a plastic bag at the camp (and tightly sealed it with duct tape), Marius directed Remy to go to a river not far from the camp and wash the blood away. Remy walked to the river in a dazed state and by the time he got there the sun was already setting and brilliant hues of yellow and orange stained the sky. Remy washed his hands in the crystal clean water, but it was still there under his fingernails, and on the sleeves of his shirt. He sat there by the water and stared at it for a while, trying to come to grips with what he'd done.

Marius had finally done it, he'd turned him into a killer. It might have just been an elk, but the elk had been a living, breathing thing of beauty, just a majestic creature minding its own business and undeserving of such a fate. Remy held onto his shaken nerves as he thought of the look on that poor things face as it lay there suffering at his hand. He could never forgive himself for doing that to any living thing.

After washing his face of any blood splatters Remy returned to the camp just as the orange light of the sun turned the skin to pink and red. Marius had the campfire going, and was already working on cooking the meat via flame from the fire and nothing more than few sticks to support it.

"You look white as a ghost," said Marius as he glanced up at Remy's return.

"I think I caught a bug," Remy lied miserably as he sat down on the log near the campfire. He put a hand against his stomach, which still gave the occasional shudder in protest to his ghastly involvement in the snuffing out of a poor animals life.

"I didn't figure you for this much of a wimp, LeBeau."

"I'm not a wimp," Remy protested, "I just...taking a life isn't something I'm used to. It ain't something I can take lightly."

"Better get used to it. Eventually you're going to need to kill an actual person. You can't be throwing up then. You know you can be traced through DNA in vomit, don't you?"

"You're like my brother. You watch way too many crime shows on TV," Remy remarked; he swallowed hard, his throat hurt terribly from being so sick.

"So...tell me," Marius began, "what'd you learn today?"

Remy faltered. What had he learned? He hadn't learned anything, he'd failed everything he'd been asked to do today. "I don't know," he said tiredly, exhaustion beginning to settle in now that the day was winding down.

"Why'd you think the kill had to be large game, Remy?"

Remy sighed as he considered this. "The bigger it is...the more I'm meant to...identify with taking a life I guess."

Marius nodded, "and why did I make you skin it?"

He needed to think about this. Skinning the thing seemed unnecessary. He didn't want a trophy, and he had no use of the skin. Remy paused and thought about the process, remembering the grisly scene of sinew and blood. The answer was there, it was logical. This just wasn't about steeling him to the sight of blood and gore. There was something more significant about having been made to skin the Elk.

Finally, Remy found an answer, "So that I see what's inside...to see that there was veins and blood and muscle...that it wasn't just...a thing...that it was alive," he shrugged.

"Very good," Marius agreed, impressed, "and why did I have you carry the skin and meat back here?"

Glancing towards the large black plastic bag where the skin now lay, Remy sighed, "speaks for itself. Killing another living thing is something you have to carry around with you. It isn't something you just...leave."

Marius smirked just a little, "I knew I'd made the right decision when I chose you, Remy," he admitted.

Remy fished out his water bottle from his backpack and took a sip, all the while watching the flickering of the fire and the embers rising into the air.

"And finally?" Marius reached for one of the makeshift skewers and raised a piece of slightly charred Elk meat into the air.

Remy forced a weak smile, "the work pays off and puts food in your belly..." he accepted the stick of cooked meat; the smell of the charred meat hit him and nausea rose. His stomach suddenly lurched and he felt the threat of more sickness.

"Not in the camp!" warned Marius sternly.

With an apologetic expression, Remy tossed the meat back to the fire and took off running towards a quiet place in the woods where he could part with what was left in him of last nights dinner while Marius enjoyed tonight's speciality.

* * *

**End of Chapter Seven**

* * *

**I feel really horrible for writing Remy into these situations, yet, it all feels quite necessary somehow. **

**Thanks to those who sent in the kind reviews, I'm glad people are giving this a chance despite it isn't a 'Romy' fic :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**I, ASSASSIN**

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

***** Authors note: there is a slight mention of child abuse in this chapter. None of it actually pertains to Remy LeBeau (yes, surprise for once, my Remy isn't as damaged as he usually is!) and it isn't particularly explicit, but it is referred to. Just giving this as a trigger warning to anyone with issues of that.**

* * *

For the first time since becoming an Assassin Initiate, Remy LeBeau slept like a rock. He wasn't sure if it had been all the walking, the hours of patience stalking elk, the peaceful silence of the forest around them, or just the being sick that had totally drained him of all energy. Whatever the cause, he slept so soundly that that night it seemed he'd barely closed his eyes and morning had arrived.

It was Marius' voice that awakened him from the best sleep he'd had in a while. "Get up, LeBeau."

Remy felt the cold slightly damp breeze of early morning air creeping into the tent; he opened his eyes and glanced to the bottom of the tent to see the flap was hanging open. With a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes he sat up, his back aching in objection. A sleeping bag was a poor substitute for a mattress, he supposed. "What time is it?" he asked exhaustedly as he dragged himself to the opening in the tent and glanced outside. Through the trees, he could see the light of sunrise coming up to meet with the dull blue of early morning sky.

"Four forty-five," said Marius; he was hunched over outside putting on his boots. "We overslept."

Remy thought the man to be quite mad. Overslept? It was barely light enough to see where the fire had been the night before let alone light enough to be getting up and going through with more of this ridiculous training.

"Get dressed," commanded Marius irritably.

Remy inwardly sighed; he could feel that today was going to be another long and tiring one. He stretched a little, and noticed the moment he raised his arms that the strong sickly smell of sweat was unbearable even though it was his own. Before they'd left for the camping trip, Marius had insisted Remy not use any deodorants, shampoo or colognes, convinced that even the unscented products would be detectable by animals and could jeopardize the hunt.

"I stink," Remy sighed as he stepped out of the tent.

"You can wash by the river," Marius suggested.

"I don't get why I can't wear deodorant," Remy grumbled as he grabbed some clean clothes to take to the river with him so he could dress down there. "I mean, don't animals smell sweat too?"

"They smell sweat, but the smell of deodorants and perfumes are even more likely to spook them," Marius explained. "What's why I made you spray yourself and change clothes yesterday. The can masks the 'human' smell to the deer, and the clothes I had in those bags for a few days with bits of cedar and twigs and dirt so that the fabric absorbed the smell of the forest. It makes it easier for us to track without being detected."

As Remy began to slowly walk towards the river, he uttered, "well, I don't think anythin' is gonna mask the smell of this today."

"It doesn't matter today. We're not stalking large game."

"Great," Remy said, for the first time feeling enthusiastic.

"We're fishing, instead."

Fishing, Remy had never liked. He'd gone a few times during his childhood with Henri and Jean-Luc but had never much liked it. He found it too quiet and unpredictable, sometimes it could be four or five hours before even the slightest tug on the line, only to end up with no bites. It wasn't that he was impatient, Remy had the tolerance within him to be extremely patient and still for long periods of time...but only if the payout was going to be worth it, and in this case, it just wasn't in his opinion.

With Marius, fishing was even more boring than fishing with his brother or father. Marius insisted on no music (not that Remy had even brought a radio) and definitely talking either as sound apparently spooked the fish. He and explained that even the _slightest _vibration of sound could be heard through the water and discourage fish from being attracted to their bait. Instead, Remy tried to sit quietly and take in the scenery, tried to imagine music in his head.

He was starving, but the charred elk meat that was still on the menu was too unappetizing to even look at, and Remy couldn't eat the stuff knowing exactly where it came from and how it had died. Eating meat from an animal he'd never had to look in the eye was one thing, but eating it from an animal he'd had to skin and slice into himself was quite another.

There'd been a boat waiting for them after two hours walk to the river, a simple row boat which Remy had had the pleasure of being in charge of rowing much to his chagrin. As the boat gently drifted across the water, Remy felt himself half drifting in and out of sleep, every now and then a bite on his rod would stir him and he would try to reel the fish in only to lose it and listen to Marius complain that he wasn't being patient enough, not giving the fish enough chance to hook on.

_I wish this old fuck would shut the hell up,_ Remy thought dully as he gazed across the water.

Hours passed with only a couple of fish caught, and not very big ones at that. At least they would eat something tonight that he didn't feel guilty about having killed. The sky went from blue to grey, and rain began to spit every now and then. At one point Remy couldn't hold himself awake any longer and _did_ unintentionally fall asleep, although surprisingly Marius did not arouse him from the slumber. Remy only supposed the old man had decided to snooze too, as he was positive otherwise, there'd have been many complaints.

It was only when the rain started to get slightly heavy that Remy stirred, and realised he'd slumbered. By the time the boat had been rowed back to the pier at the edge of the lake, both men were soaked through, and although this was one of the _hottest _summers in Remy's young life, it was now undeniably cold out, with a wind beginning to pick up.

The rain came in periodical torrents, and the sky darkened. They kept walking, following their compasses and the reference points, the walk taking far longer than Remy remembered it that morning. By the time they had arrived back to camp, the thunder was booming, and the sky was flashing with lightning and both Remy and Marius were soaked through so badly that before they could even enter their tent, they had to undress outside.

"Weather took a nasty turn," was all Marius had said in the last three hours, and Remy had been thankful for the silence. "Was slated to be Sunny and hot until Thursday."

Remy dressed slowly in the tent, it seemed every muscle groaned in objection as he pulled on his t-shirt and lay on the sleeping bag to yank up his dry shorts. Despite he had a high threshold for pain and an even higher tolerance for physical exertion, he felt ill with exhaustion and hurt all over. His body was absolutely racked in pain and he could tell it would be for the next few days.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Marius as he gazed out of the flap of the tent at the heavy rain.

Remy knew better than to complain about the pain. He only knew what his new mentor would reply with. That this was intentional, that physical exertion and pain were all part of this training and exercise. Instead of complaining, Remy kept his mouth shut and lay on his side.

"Nothin' to complain about now?" mused Marius.

"It's been a long day, is all," Remy responded with, maintaining a rather cool composed tone.

"So..." said Marius, sweeping his damp hair from his face. "Lessons learned today? Brief me."

"Patience," replied Remy, he picked up his watch and looked at the time. It was nearly seven pm. How quickly the day had passed. "Lots of it."

"Sometimes," began Marius as he pulled on a rather old-looking t-shirt with what looked to have been the Beatles logo _once _upon a time. "The wait for the mark can be excruciating, and _long_. Hours of sitting – or standing – perfectly still in wait. It could be bein' perched on the top of a roof on a real narrow ledge, or it could be stuck in some corner behind a drape waitin' for that _perfect_ moment to slice into your mark's throat. Either way, patience is a virtue, and it is the _friend _of the Assassin."

Remy nodded a little, and put his watch down to the side of him. He picked up his cell phone. The reception out here was quite poor and he could only get two signal bars sporadically and mostly none at all. He noted the disapproving expression of his new mentor and he put it down.

"I hope you ain't sending info to your family," Marius frowned.

"No," Remy responded quietly. He decided to not elaborate on the fact he wasn't even _speaking_ to either of them after their attitudes towards him the last time they had interacted. His stomach growled, but knowing the only food available was cold fire-cooked elk meat didn't do much for his appetite.

"Hungry?" asked Marius.

"I ain't really into Elk meat," Remy confessed, he tried to hide the look of disgust that he assumed was probably fighting to take control of his expression.

Marius rifled through his backpack at the foot of his own sleeping bag and yanked something out and tossed it to him. "Here."

Remy accepted the item, a cereal bar. Not the most filling of meals he supposed but at least it wasn't charred.

"Soon as this rain eases off I'll see if I can get a fire goin' and cook up the fish," Marius rubbed the back of his neck. "Weather people on television never get it right."

Remy tore the packet of the cereal bar open and bit into the chewy oats, "two types of people to never trust. People that try to predict the weather...and religious figures," he commented. "Ain't neither got the power to deliver exactly what they promise."

"True," agreed Marius, and he lay down, grabbing the book he'd brought with him.

As Remy lay there eating his cereal bar, memories of the catholic orphanage he'd been brought up in came flooding back. There were things he thought he'd long forgotten that now seemed strangely vivid. Names escaped him, but events _didn't_. There was one boy Remy recalled had been thirteen around the time he was seven (not long before he'd run away from the place the _first _time). This particular boy he recalled had been caught 'flogging the Bishop' by Sister Mary Agnes (over a pornographic magazine he'd apparently found in the rectory which as Remy remembered, was rumoured to belong to one of the priests). Sister Mary Agnes was of course, the most _feared_ nun in the place and now Remy remembered why. She'd taken that boy to her office, made him lay out his penis on her desk and then dropped a large and rather heavy bible upon it.

_Pretty sure there were rumours circulatin' that kid never got a stiffy again,_ Remy thought as he chewed his bar. All the same, it'd been _one_ of the reasons Remy had never touched himself while he'd been resident in that place. He remembered the warnings the other boys whispered about regarding the _boys who played with their privates_. They ended up in Priests chambers giving peepshows and servicing the priests in exchange for pieces of candy and comic books (which were forbidden). Such things were most likely rumours and probably not much more, Remy realised now.

_Back then I was so young I was ready to believe anythin' I was told. Always thought I'd become some dirty old man's private fuck toy if I even kept my hand on my dick too long while taking a piss,_ Remy mused as he crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it aside. Still, even now he had to wonder, for all the stories that had circulated about the sexual abuse that had gone on in that place, how much of it had actually been true? He'd seen _none _of it, and none of the boys had ever claimed to be victims. He'd never experienced much more than the usual punishments such as a cold wooden ruler against his bare ass or being made to scrub out the urinals. He supposed he could only sum it up to the fact that this was the one time in his life that being a mutant had actually worked in his favour. A priest wasn't likely to want to abuse a boy with the devils eyes, after all.

These events, Remy supposed, had shaped him slightly, as although he was rebellious, thanks to lessons learned in that horrible place there were certain authority figures he just _wouldn't_ disobey. And Marius Bordreaux had quickly become one of them.

It was a short while later that Remy noted his mentor was snoring quietly where he lay on the sleeping bag at his side, the book open on his chest. Gingerly, Remy picked up his phone again and checked through his text messages, finding a new one had arrived while the thing was set on silent mode.

He wasn't sure when Bella Donna had gotten his personal phone number, but she'd sent him a picture. A rather interesting one of her cleavage. He might have been thankful for it, but right now, he was still feeling queasy at the thought of her killing the dog days ago and even if she'd sent a picture of those supple young breasts nude, it still wouldn't get _that _image out of his head.

Beneath the picture, the text message read '_thinking of u x_ '. Remy sighed quietly to himself and wondered how to respond to this. He'd not been able to think of her quite in the same way he had since she'd shot the dog. He supposed it was only natural. Still, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. After a moment of contemplation, he replied with '_thinking of u 2'. _He supposed in some odd way, he was now that she had contacted him.

After twenty minutes, just as Remy was almost close to dozing off, he felt the phone – which he'd left lying on his stomach – vibrating. He raised it to see that Bella Donna was _calling_. He turned the vibrate function off hastily, and pocketed the phone and went about climbing over Marius. He left the tent, zipped it up from the outside, and walked far from the woods, hoping his sleeping mentor wouldn't awaken.

He answered the call when he was several feet from the tent, moving towards the woods despite the rain that was still pouring down.

"Hey," he greeted Bella Donna, feigning enthusiasm. He always _was _good at pretending to be more enthusiastic than he really was, especially when girls were involved.

"_Where are you guys? I've had no note, no phone calls, nothin'. You guys just took off..." _Bella Donna started the conversation off right away.

Remy glanced over his shoulder, making sure he knew which direction he'd come from before heading further out of earshot. Hopefully the rain would hide the sounds of his voice from the sleeping Assassin in the tent. "We're in the woods, stalkin' Elk and fishin'. He says it's part of my _trainin'."_

"_Desensitization,_" Bella Donna announced. "_'Cause he caught you lookin' away when the dog died."_

"Yeah, more or less," Remy replied, trying to sound far more casual about the situation than he felt. "What you up to?"

"_My grandfather arrived from Paris yesterday to help me with my training,"_ Bella Donna elaborated, "_weapons and stealth tactics are his speciality."_

"Sounds...interestin',"Remy reasoned. It definitely sounded more interesting than what he was doing.

_"So...how was your first _kill_?" _Bella Donna asked.

"It was...fine," Remy gave a shrug, then felt foolish, realising she wouldn't be able to see this. "There...was a lot of blood."

"_Clean kill_?"

"No...I wasn't used to the weight of the rifle, I clipped it in the neck and it was bleedin' out and cryin' in pain."

"_It gets easier," _Bella Donna promised.

"Your pop take you huntin'?" Remy asked, quite surprised at the thought of this.

"_Grandpa used to before he moved to Paris. Taught me where to find them, how to track them, how to kill them cleanly,_" Bella Donna explained, "_even how to skin them, and how to get the best cuts of the meat._"

Remy felt slightly disturbed at the thought of this. No wonder she was so able to cleanly kill the dog without so much as any remorse, she'd probably been killing animals for years. One other thought disturbed him was that Bella Donna was _way _ahead of him as far as training went. This couldn't be good, surely her father was going to use it as a comparison? Give reason to complain?

_She was brought up an Assassin, I weren't, there's a difference, and he'll know that,_ Remy tried to tell himself.

"_So..." _said Bella Donna after a moment, sounding wistful, her voice going into that slow, soft, honeyed tone that she used to try to drive him wild. This time it wasn't as effective, but perhaps it was that he was practically in the middle of a cold shower given the rain that was pouring around him. "_You've been thinkin' about me, huh?"_ she asked.

_"_All the time," Remy said, keeping his voice low, trying to give her the same honeyed seductive tone she was giving him. He hoped he was at least driving _her_ wild. Keep up pretences for the moment, at least until the awkward feeling of disgust about her murdering that dog would ease off a little.

Although he doubted it ever would.

_"You think about me when you _t_ouch yourself_?" Bella Donna asked, sounding incredibly hopeful.

Strangely enough, he hadn't even indulged in this act since he'd come to the Assassins. The constant feeling of being watched made it far too uncomfortable to even bother with _thoughts_ about masturbation, let alone the actual _act _of it. Regardless of him having not indulged himself as of late, he decided to indulge _her_ with the lie of it all the same. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased.

_"Well...yeah, or I wouldn't be askin'," _she replied coyly.

"Don't worry, chere, I been thinkin' of you _plenty_."

"_So when we gonna get away from _thinkin'_ and to the actual _doin'_?" _Bella Donna asked, sounding even more hopeful still.

"Don't worry, well get to that soon enough," he promised. Promises he wasn't sure he could keep. Right now, the thought of it alone should have had him at least at half-mast. Right now, there didn't even seem to _be_ signs of a flag there at all.

"_Promise?"_

He decided to indulge her further, "promise."

* * *

**End of Chapter Eight**

* * *

**Thanks to those who took the time to review. I'm so tickled that people are reading it (although only a few in comparison to other fics I've posted). Glad to see people are enjoying the portrayal of Bella Donna and that I haven't painted her to be quite so heartless or bitchy as apparently other fics have had her be, lol. I've made a point in this chapter of mentioning Remy's upbringing in the orphanage a little just to ensure people know there isn't going to be any revelations of child abuse or him being 'damaged' as a child. Hopefully that comes across somewhat ;)**

**Thanks to all, hope you enjoy this chapter :)**


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